Darkness On My Heels
by Empty Words
Summary: 5 yrs ago he left, with no explanation. Now Harry's back, but instead of a happy reunion there's a new darkness on the horizon. a terrible new enemy to fight. One that may destroy everything and everyone he loves. Updated.
1. The Night He Returned

**Chapter One**

**The Night He Returned**

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it wasn't that stormy, more like a heavy rain that was on its last legs. It had been raining harder a few minutes before, but like all storms it was losing it's staying power and now a light sprinkle pattered upon the roof tiles and the panes of glass in the windows. It was a comforting sound, a rhythmic sound that comforted the woman sitting before a fire place, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

The woman was of medium height, medium build, brown eyed, and brown haired, almost what one would call average until they took a second look at her. Her eyes shone with intelligence, a comforting smile graced her face, one that put people to ease and in moments had them knowing this was a person they could trust and a person they could count on.

Hermione Jane Granger sat comfortably in a battered old chair. It was her reading chair, in the right position to get good light from the lamps, candles, and fireplace. The chair had been with her for many years, a constant fixture in her life, from the days as a child to the days of living on her own as an adult. Hours upon hours had been spent upon that chair, hours of losing oneself in the simple joy of reading, writing, or just thinking.

At that moment she was reading, a simple book for entertainment's sake. The soft patter of rain complimented by the soft music playing in the background, the warm air coming from crackling fireplace providing the right atmosphere. Hermione smiled to herself, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of tea. It was home.

Bang! Bang!

Hermione started, nearly dropping her cup of tea upon her lap. She quickly set aside the tea and immediately reached into the pockets of her robe and pulled out a wand. The cool, smooth length of wood fitted her hand perfectly and it gave her a sense of calm and clear headedness. She glanced at the clock on the wall, no one should be coming around this late in the night. No one with good intentions that was..

Bang! Bang!

Hermione took a deep breath, brushing a strand of hair from her face and glancing at the windows and other doors in the cottage. Hundreds of spells and curses ran through her mind, she wasn't defenseless. If it came to it should was sure she could hold against anything short of an extremely powerful witch or wizard.

Taking another deep breath Hermione shook her head. When did an enemy ever knock on someone's door prior to attacking them? It could be a trick, but Hermione suddenly doubted that. Defenses didn't all rest in her mind or wand, it permeated the whole area, from the soil upon the ground, to the wood, stone, glass, and metal of the cottage. It would only take the greatest of powers to get past those, if they intended her harm.

Hermione still frowned. There were still ways to get past even the greatest of spells, charms, or wards. She walked to the door, her wand pointed at it steadily and a curse upon her tongue just in case. She padded softly across the thick rugs that lay upon the hardwood floor.

Bang! Bang!

"Open the damn door, Hermione! I know you're in there!" A voice shouted from beyond the stout wooden door.

Hermione stopped for a moment, a sense of shock and anger burning through her. She lowered her wand, and then clenched her fist around it tightly, shoving it into her pocket and walked toward the door. She paused for a moment, her hands resting upon the latch to open the door and then with another deep breath she pulled it open. The blast of cold, west air blew her hair back and brought the fresh smell of wet earth and rain. A figure stood upon her steps, his face illuminated by the light escaping out the door.

"Hey, Hermione." Harry Potter said, a grin upon his face and his hair and clothing plastered with rain. "How's it going?"

"Hermione just stared, unable to say anything. Emotions warred within her and after a long pause she punched him.


	2. Patching Up A Wound

**Chapter Two**

Patching Up A Wound 

"Okay, okay. I deserved that." Harry said, picking himself up off the rain-covered steps. He brushed off a few stray strands of grass and then spat, wincing as he did. "I think you loosened a tooth or three." He grinned.

Hermione hit him again.

"Damn it." Harry muttered, picking up his glasses that had been knocked off. "Who the hell taught you how to punch." He rubbed his jaw and looked at her. There was still a bit of mirth in his eyes and slight grin on his face. "Any more?"

How could he find this funny? Hermione punched again. This time Harry moved faster, his hand shot out and gripped her right hand wrist, her clenched fist only inches from his face. With his right hand he grabbed her left wrist as she tried to punch him in the stomach.

"You know the funny thing? I kind of was expecting this to happen." Harry said, his face just inches from hers. Hermione could see the green of his eyes behind his rain streaked glasses and the easy smile that was on his face. She tried jerking her hands free, but his rough hands held them in viselike grips. "How have you been, Hermione?" He asked softly, his face so close to hers. He suddenly let go of her hands and took a step back, a small smile still on his face.

"Fine." Hermione said shortly, rubbing her wrists. She looked down and saw that her hand was smeared with something crimson. After a moment realization dawned upon her. Blood. Hermione's eyes snapped to Harry, scanning him up and down. There. A darker than dark spot upon his clothes, just below his ribs on his right side. "You're hurt." She said.

"Well, you do hit pretty hard." Harry said, rubbing his jaw.

"No, you fool." Hermione pointed to the spot on his clothes.

"Oh, that." Harry said, looking as if he were surprised to see it. "It's nothing, just a little scratch. It'll heal alright in a couple of days or weeks."

Hermione frowned; she knew what his definition of a scratch was. Basically anything that didn't bleed you to death before you could find bandages to stop it. "Come inside." Hermione said, stepping away from the doorway.

Harry smiled. "I was starting to enjoy the rain." He stepped inside and then stopped, looking around. "Damn, I've seen charms and I've seen charms. Isn't this a little over zealous on your part?" He said, his eyes taking in all the layers of charms that protected the house.

Hermione paused as she headed for the kitchen. "I've got my reasons." She said. "Take off your coat and your shirt."

Harry glanced at her and chuckled. "I haven't even been here a minute and you're already trying to get me out of my clothes." He said.

"Don't be daft. I'm going to heal that so called scratch in your side." Hermione said, pushing open the swinging door into the kitchen.

"Don't bother." Harry called after her. "Magic's not going to help it heal. That bastard used Nocturn Powder on his blade. It's gonna have to heal the old fashion way."

"Thankfully I'm also skilled in basic Muggle medicine." Hermione said, coming back into the living room. In her hands she carried a small white box with a red cross on it. She had almost forgotten where she put it. There wasn't much call for first aid kits in the Wizarding World, not when you could Heal things away.

Harry shrugged and pulled off his long black coat, draping it across the back of a chair. Hermione frowned; the coat was dripping water onto her carpets. He then pulled off his shirt, also black, of course.

Hermione paused for a moment and took in the sight. The years had changed him, in more ways than they had changed Hermione. Though she could understand, he lived a harder life than she did. His face was more angular, as if the softness had been carved away to reveal the bedrock beneath. His green eyes were harder and grimmer, witness to how many horrid sights Hermione didn't wish to know or think about. Though a trace of the easy smile he always had was still there, a reminder of the boy he used to be. As Hermione watched him, she wondered if that boy was still somewhere in there or had it, like all the things from their childhood, been washed away with fear and pain?

She shook her head softly and walked to him, pulling up a chair as he sat perched on a footstool before the fireplace. The light was dim and soft, but it was enough. Unconsciously she traced a long scar, running from his shoulder to the middle of his back, ending in a puckered scar. She felt him shudder under her touch and she jerked her hand back, as if burned.

"I see you've added to you collection." Hermione said, clearing her throat.

"Its rough and dirty line of work I'm in." Harry responded simply. "At least they haven't added anymore to my face. One scar's good enough to get all the ladies hot and bothered. Anymore would just ruin my good looks." He laughed and then stopped as he noticed Hermione's expression.

"Let's just get this cleaned shall we?" Hermione said. She opened the box and began cleaning his wound. It was shallow and only a couple of inches long. If she added too much antibacterial to the wound, and scrubbed it a bit too hard, she was only being through. Harry didn't flinch or move, he just sat there with his eyes closed and small beads of rainwater running down his skin.

Hermione sighed to herself as she unrolled a length of sterile bandages. Being so close to him again brought back all the memories she had tried to put away. They flashed through her mind, hot and bright. Good times, bad time, wonderful times, and horrible times. Hermione closed her eyes, forcing her hand not to shake and tried to concentrate upon what she was doing. Nocturn Powder tended to block the body's immune system, allowing bacteria to take hold and spread. It needed to be cleaned thoroughly and bandaged tightly. The powder was magical in nature, but Muggle antiseptic and medicines usually would take care of it, it only affected magical healing.

"How did this happen?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing special. Just a wannabe Dark Lord gathering minions and taking way out of his league. He popped up on my radar an di had to take care of him." Harry said, casually. Hermione took a breath, trying not to imagine the sweat, fear, pain, and death that had taken place. Unfortunately she had experienced too much of it not to know what happened in situation like that.

"And this new Dark Lord?" Hermione asked, anything was better than thinking of him. Of being so close to him, of touching his skin, breathing in his familiar smell, or feeling the warmth of his skin under her hands. Hermione shook her head.

"He didn't really rate Dark Lord level. Just a little nobody, but with a surprisingly large amount of toys on hand. Good with a sword, but obviously not good enough. I had to flash his ass in the end. Can't let rubbish like that spread, next thing you know we'll have another Grindelwald or Voldemort on our hands." Harry said, his voice casual and calm. He could have been talking about the weather for all the emotion in his voice. No, he was trying to sound calm and casual. Hermione realized, there was an undertone of anguish and pain in his voice, hidden but still noticeable if you knew where to look. "He didn't even come up with any fancy name, too. Honestly who calls themselves the Grim Lord?"

Hermione nodded slowly. What had happened? What had he faced? She was quiet for a moment, hoping that he would continue talking, to tell her what had happened, but he was silent, staring into the fireplace. Maybe she was mistaken. The years had changed him. In all the years she had known him, he wasn't one to casually talk about killing another person. That thought sent a shiver of fear down her spine. How he so easily spoke of killing a living person, as if it were a common everyday thing. The more she thought about it, the more she was afraid that for Harry it was. That thought chilled her even further.

"I'm done." Hermione said. She pinned the bandages tight, wiped her hands upon a sterile towel. and then packed up her first aid kit.

Harry nodded his thanks and pulled his shirt back on, after drying it and cleaning it with a spell. He looked about the living room, as Hermione cleaned her hands and set everything back to rights.

"Nice place you have here." Harry said. Hermione looked up at him, his face was expressionless, but his eyes were roving around the room. She knew that expression, it was the one he used when trying not to show what he was feeling. His Poker Face. "A bit of a challenge in finding though."

Hermione nodded. It was because of its remote location that Hermione had bought the cottage. "I have my reasons." She said.

And that reason walked in on them, bleary eyed and asking for water. She stopped, staring at the stranger in their midst, bright green eyes opened wide in shock.


	3. Questions and Answers

**Chapter Three**

**Questions And Answers**

Hermione closed the bedroom door; she could hear the soft regular sounds of breathing coming from within. She stood there for a moment, taking a steadying breath, hand upon the doorframe, and eyes closed. What was he doing here? What did he want? Hermione looked down the short hall to the living room with a bit of apprehension, dread, and excitement. What was he doing here? He had been gone so long, what was he doing back all of the sudden?

Hermione snorted angrily at herself as she realized she was trying to brush down her hair. She looked down at the faded night robes she was wearing, spotting threadbare spots and old stains, and sighed. She had not been expecting visitors, especially not _him_. Again she snorted angrily as the thought of changing her robes crossed her mind. What was she doing? This was her home. Why was she acting like a brainless fool? Shaking her head, Hermione took another steadying breath and walked back into the living room. This was her home and she would not act the foolish girl for no one.

She paused before entering the living room, watching as Harry sat sprawled in one of her chairs, booted feet upon a footstool and eyes closed. For a moment he looked tired and hurt. What had he been up to in the last five years? How had he changed? How…

What was he doing here? She cleared her throat walking into the living room, her strides determined.

Harry looked as she approached, the same easy grin appearing. Hermione frowned slightly as she took it in. No it was not the same easy grin he'd had as a boy. No this was different. The realization struck Hermione hard, suddenly feeling a wave of sadness for the boy she once loved. The grin that graced his face now held no mirth, no happiness, and no joy. It was a fake expression pasted on his face.

"Nice kid you got there." Harry said as she settled down in a chair across from him. She noticed that he had put his coat upon the coat rack and his clothes had been dried. Well, that was a start.

Hermione nodded slowly at his words. Nice kid? There was no time to beat around the bush. Hermione looked at the clock upon the mantle, she was tired and the hour was late. "Her name is Emily and she's half yours." She replied.

Harry grinned again. Again, that mockery of a smile. "I know." He replied softly.

Of course he would. Just because _she_ hadn't seen him in five years didn't mean he didn't know what she was up to. How else would he have found her home? Why else was he not surprise to see Emily enter the room? A momentary sense of outrage and anger flashed through her, Harry must have seen it on her face because he smiled, this time it held a trace of mirth. So, it humored him to see her angry?

"How have you been, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione snorted. "As well as a single mother can be." She replied, weariness in her voice. She was not about to play games, he came here for something and she didn't want to spend half the night playing a guessing game to find out what it was.

Harry let out a harsh bark of laughter. "You really know how to cut to the bone, don't you?"

"And you really know how to abandon those that love you the most when they need you the most." Hermione snapped, five years of anger and frustration came roaring back. What was he doing her in house? She should have left him bleeding upon her stoop. She didn't need this, she didn't need his returning, the conflicting emotions, the half answers that were getting nowhere.

Harry flinched at her anger. "I'm sorry." He began.

"Sorry? Sorry for what? Abandoning Emily and me? Your five years of absence with out a word as to how you are doing?" Hermione clenched a fist and quivered with pent up anger. "Sadly I can understand your leaving. I can understand you not wanting to see me, but Emily? Why have you not seen her? Never once in the last five years have you tried seeing her. Not one damned letter, not one damned note, or message. Nothing!"

"What we do hear is through third hand sources. You came back to London for a week, you're in Spain, you're in America. That's all we've every heard."

"I figured it was all for the best. We didn't exactly part on good terms." Harry replied.

"Good terms? As I remember you didn't say a damn word about your leaving to me or anyone else. Do you know the pain and the terror I went through those first two days you were missing? Did you even think to tell me? Did it even cross your mind?" Hermione snarled.

Harry bowed his head and sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face. "It was for the best. As you see nothing has happened to you in the last five years I've been gone. You look to be doing well, the kid is growing up nicely, and none of the shit that follows me around has attacked you and her yet." Harry nodded to himself. "It was the best that I could offer you."

Hermione closed her eyes. "What makes you think that you know what's best? Did you not think that Emily growing up to know her father would have been best? Did you not think that staying would have been best? You said you were done with it all and I believed you. You said we'd build a new life. And I believed you!" Hermione felt tears on her face and she quickly wiped it away. Now was not the time to cry. She would not let him see how much pain he had caused her, how much agony.

Harry's face was pale and drawn. His eyes locked to the rugs upon the floor and his shoulders slumped. "I…"

"What do you want?" Hermione demanded, cutting him off. "Why are you here?"

Harry hesitated, looking down at his hands. "I...I don't know. I slagged that bastard the Grim Lord and I suddenly felt like it was time to come back. To see you again. Not to pick up where I left, but just to see and talk to you again. Damn, but I've missed you Hermione." Harry said.

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to hold back the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. She gripped the sides of her chair tightly and opened her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Five years you've been gone and now you expect a hearty welcome from me?" Hermione said. "You expect all to be forgiven?"

Harry shook his head. "I never expected to come back anyway. As cruel as it sounds this part of my life is over. All the best memories I have are from the times we were together. What we had was doomed from the beginning. It's just...our worlds don't overlap."

"That's the reason you came up with? Five years you had to think of this moment and all you could come up with is that our worlds don't overlap?"

"Think about it Hermione. You were always the bright one, the one with all the answers. You think what we had could have lasted, you think you could have withstood all the shit that came flying my way? All those little bastards who wanted to make a name for themselves as the one who killed the man who killed Voldemort. Our life could have never worked out. The best thing I could do for any of those that I loved was to leave them, to forget about them. That way those that followed after me, those that wanted a name for themselves, wouldn't come looking for any of you to cause me pain."

Hermione was quiet. "Then why are you here now?" She asked.

Harry sighed. "I don't know. It's just a feeling and a whim. You learn to trust your instincts in my line of work, and all my instincts were screaming for me to come back to you. To say hello and maybe good bye."

"Good bye?"

Harry shrugged, staring at the carpeted floor. "I don't know. Maybe my time's up. It just feels like something important is going to happen and I need to be here."

Again Hermione was quiet. "Is it going to be something bad?" She asked.

Harry shrugged again. "I don't know. Probably. As you know bad shit follows me." He said.

"Maybe you're just pulled into places where 'bad shit' happens. You're pulled there to make things right." Hermione said.

Harry laughed. "Yeah. That sounds a lot better than endangering those that you love."

"Are we in danger?" Hermione asked, fear beginning to course through her, but that was pushed away by another emotion. Love? Did he just say he still loved her?.

Harry shrugged again. "I don't know. I just know something's gonna happen and here's where I need to be."

Hermione nodded, suddenly feeling exhaustion tugging at her. "It's getting late. I don't know about you, but raising a four year old's a full time job and I need all the sleep I can get." She said, rising to her feet. She looked at Harry for a moment. "You can spend the night if you want."

Harry smiled, this time a genuine smile. Hermione was glad to see it. Not everything had been scoured away.. "Thanks. It beats apparating back to London." He said.

"That's where you've been staying?' Hermione asked. She felt a wave of irritation. She also worked in London. Had they been only miles apart for all these years?

"That and any place I can crash. I'm a transient. My job doesn't afford me the pleasure of putting down roots." He said.

Hermione nodded. "I guess your job is your life." She replied

Harry sighed, for a moment he looked utterly sad and exhausted. "It's always been. My life is my job and my job is my life. They've never been separate. You know that and I know that."

Hermione looked away, feeling tears in her eyes. "Good night, Harry." She said, walking to her room. "Sweet dreams."


	4. Morning

**Chapter Four**

Morning 

"You defeated Voldemort?" Emily said incredulously.

"Yeah. Didn't your mother ever tell you of Harry Potter the Great and Powerful? The Man Who Defeated the Dark Lord?"

Hermione entered the kitchen, the delicious smell of coffee and breakfast heavy the air. She looked toward the corner table where Emily was sitting, a large plate of pancakes and eggs before her, and Harry leaning back in a wooden chair, a small grin on his face and a cup of coffee before him.

"Mommy said Harry Potter was a great man. You don't look great." Emily responded with the bluntness only a four year old can muster.

"You're a cheeky little girl aren't you?" Harry said, laughing. He looked up and saw Hermione standing in the kitchen doorway. "Look it's you mum, ask her if I'm really Harry Potter."

Hermione smiled to cover up the ache that suddenly formed within her. She felt foolish, but she could imagine this scene being played out every morning. All of them together, talking over breakfast and laughing. Hermione cleared her throat trying to push down the unwanted emotion. 'I see you've been busy during the night." She said, noticing new charms emplaced around the house.

Harry nodded. "Yeah a few things I picked up. A couple of nasty surprises for people who come with intention of harming you or her."

"Is he really Harry Potter, Mommy?" Emily asked, shoving syrup soaked pancake into her mouth.

"Unfortunately he is." Hermione said, walking to the counter and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Emily stared at Harry with big eyes.

"See." Harry said, teasingly.

"Why are you here?" Emily asked.

Harry smiled. "You know what happened to the curious cat, don't you?"

At the mention of cat a large ginger colored blob moved from the windowsill and ambled over the two. It rubbed against Harry's leg and meowed piteously up at him.

"I see the old man's still kicking." Harry said, pulling Crookshanks onto his lap. The large cat purred and settled upon it. "How old is he now? Sixteen?"

"Fifteen." Hermione said, picking up a plate and sitting down at the table.

"Mommy said I can have a kneazle when I'm older." Emily announced,

"Well, that'll be one lucky kneazle then." Harry said, petting Crookshanks. The old cat purred like a kitten, its eyes closed blissfully. Hermione wondered if she would purr like that under his touch, but she quickly shook the thought away.

"How is Hedwig? It's been years since I've seen her. Five years." Hermione asked.

Harry's face fell for a moment. "She's been gone for three years now. Got caught while we were in America. She was delivering a message to a contact when she got nabbed."

"I'm sorry." Hermione said, patting his arm.

Harry shook his head, shaking away the grief. "They paid for it in the end. The Great Empress Syrin and all her little band of minions." Harry said, an undertone of savagery in his voice.

"Are you an Auror?" Emily asked.

Harry shook his head. 'No. I'm what you call a free lance specialist."

Emily just stared at him, his words beyond her.

"I make sure that people like Voldemort don't come to power. Aurors chase criminals and the like. I hunt down dark lord wannabes. I put a stop to them before they cause any great harm to people." Harry clarified.

"I'm sure that Ron and Neville wouldn't like it that you're looking down on their professions." Hermione said. She paused for a moment, wasn't there something she was supposed to do today? She shook her head, whatever it was it would come back to her.

Harry smiled. "I couldn't care less what Ron thinks. As for Neville he's good at what he does, keeping England free of murderers and thieves. It pays for that nice little house he and Ginny have."

Hermione nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. She sighed with pleasure at it. She never knew anyone who could make coffee as well as Harry did. She'd done all she could to try and recreate it, but it was never the same.

"Still like the Harry Potter Blend of coffee?" Harry said grinning.

"It's far better than your attempt to bake anything." Hermione said, taking a bite of the food he cooked. 'Although you always knew how to make a good breakfast."

Harry laughed, a faint blush forming on his cheeks. He looked away, out the window and suddenly his demeanor changed.

"Do you have an Angel?" He asked suddenly.

"A what?"

"A Guardian Angel. Someone who watches over you." Harry said, his hands going for his wand.

"No. What is it?" Hermione asked, pulling out her wand. She grabbed Emily's hand and pulled her behind her.

"There's a Watcher Charm out there, almost hidden, but you can barely make it out." Harry said, pulling Crookshanks off his lap.

Harry exited through the back door, Hermione on his heels. "Stay inside Emily. You're safe inside." Emily nodded, eyes big. Crookshanks stood before her, sensing the mood and ready to attack anything that threatened her.

Harry stood over a hedge, frowning furiously. "Looks like that old bastard's keeping an eye out for you." He said, and then suddenly pointed his wand at the hedge. It sparkled and burst into blue flames. Hermione blinked and saw that the hedge hadn't been harmed.

"What was it?" Hermione asked.

"Dumbledore. He's been keeping an eye out on your and Emily." Harry cursed, shoving his wand back into his pocket. "He knows I'm here then."

There was a sudden screech and they both looked up. A large gray owl was flying their way, a letter clutched in it's claws.

"Damn." Harry muttered. "Get out of here, you damn bird!" Harry yelled, picking up a stone and throwing it at the owl. The owl neatly dodged the thrown stone and swooped at Harry, dropping the letter it held and then flapping quickly away.

Harry stood upon the grass glaring at the owl quickly speeding away. He suddenly sighed, his shoulders seeming to slump.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking at the letter lying upon the ground. Harry looked down at it for a moment and then cursed, kicking it away. It didn't go far.

"Dumbledore." Harry said simply. He walked away from the letter and back toward the cottage. Hermione paused, looking down at the letter. Through the years her contact with the old Headmaster of Hogwarts had been a tenuous thing. Though she had graduated the top of her class and was active in the going-ons of the Wizarding World, their paths never seemed to cross beyond Ministry gatherings, gatherings in which Dumbledore rarely attended anymore.

She wondered how often Dumbledore and Harry were in contact. Normally she would have considered such a thing to be a far fetched thing, but she had noticed his lack of surprise and knowledge of who the letter was from. This surely meant that Dumbledore and Harry were in communication regularly.

Hermione wondered how she should feel about that. She held no ill feelings toward Dumbledore, without him the war would have probably been lost. Unlike Harry she knew he had done the things that needed doing, and although she could not entirely embrace the things he had done, she accepted them. She accepted them the same way she accepted the things Harry had done and the things she had done.

Hermione shivered, disliking the line of thought she was upon. She quickly picked up the letter and followed Harry back inside.

Harry was sitting back at the kitchen table, Emily was back at her food and Crookshanks sitting happily upon Harry's lap again. It almost seemed as if nothing had happened a few moments ago. Hermione took a deep breath, feeling a little shaky from the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear; it had been years since she'd been scared. She glanced at Harry, almost five years in fact.

Was what he said true? That all the bad things seemed to follow him around? It sounded like nonsense to Hermione, but then again the evidence to the contrary was almost staggering. She had lived a peaceful life these last five years and the very morning Harry returns, the old fears and terrors returned.

Hermione sat down at the table, picking up her cup of coffee and slowly sipping it, all the while watching Harry. He didn't say anything or do anything that might suggest he was interested in the letter from Dumbledore, he just continued to drink his coffee and make idle chat with Emily, who was enjoying the company of another person even if it was another grown up.

"Go play in the living room." Hermione said, once Emily cleaned her plate.

"Mom." Emily began.

"Go." Hermione said sternly and Emily went, knowing not to object when she used her Voice. Crookshanks leapt off Harry's lap and followed her out. Soon the sounds of laughter and child play came from the living room.

"What's going on?" Hermione demanded, she paused, clearing her throat. She hadn't meant for it to come out so bluntly and heatedly.

Harry took a sip of his coffee. "Nothing." He replied.

"Then why are you avoiding Dumbledore? Why did you just leave his letter out there?"

Harry sighed. "You know Dumbledore and I don't get along. He's a scheming old bastard who treats people as if they were pieces on a chessboard. It's all for the common good, my ass.' Harry said. "I think he enjoys controlling people, just giving them enough info to keep them wanting more, pushing them in the right direction to do his bidding. Gods forbid, he actually dirties his hands fighting his own battles!"

Hermione nodded. This was a well-worn rant for Harry. One that could probably last for hours if allowed to continue. "What does he want with you?" Hermione asked.

Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair and closing his eyes. "I don't know and I don't want to find out. I don't want anything to do with that old bastard, not anymore. Never." He said, there was a fierceness in his voice that bothered Hermione.

"It must be important." Hermione said.

"I'm sure its very important. Usually saving the world kind of important." Harry said, looking down at his cup.

"I thought that was your job. Saving the world." Hermione said.

Harry chuckled dryly. "Yeah, like in those comic books. Me in my bright suit, battling evil at every corner. Never getting the chance to rest, to enjoy the life that I fight so dearly for. Always surrounded by death and destruction." There was utter sadness in his voice, Hermione reached over and placed a comforting hand upon his arm.

Harry looked up at her. "It's not that I hate Dumbledore. Well, I do hate him. It's the things he asks me to do. They're not normal missions, they're...destructive." Hermione looked at him in confusion. "I can take out any witch or wizard, easy, no problem. Just slag them and call it a day, but what Dumbledore gives me, they're not just a job. Every time I do something for him, it kills a little piece of me. I destroys what's left of me and slowly crushes all that I once was." Harry cleared his throat. "I...I don't want to go to him."

"Then don't." Hermione said, she gripped his arm. "This is you life. You've fought harder and longer for it than any witch or wizard known."

Harry smiled sadly. "The horrifying thing is that I'll do it. I'll go to him and I'll do what he needs done. It needs to be done and I guess I'm the only one to do it." He got up.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"I'm going to get the letter. Read it and then go." Harry replied.

Hermione dug into her pockets and pulled out the letter, lying it upon the table. "I don't know if I should give it to you or just destroy it." She said, staring at it.

"It's terrible how a little bit of ink and parchment can destroy lives." Harry said. "It destroyed what we had before."

"What?"

Harry sat down and picked up the letter. "The night I left I went to answer a letter from Dumbledore. It was the first time in five years, since we left Hogwarts that he had written me. There was this witch in Norway that needed to be taken care of, the only thing she was a little girl, barely thirteen. After that I didn't think I could come back to you. It felt too much like murder. This wasn't like Voldemort or the Malfoys. They were grown and they knew what they were doing, this was just a little kid who thought of the power she wielded and the death she caused as a game." Harry shook his head. "Every letter I answer it just gets worst. It just keeps escalating into harder and harder jobs. Things that don't let me sleep, that don't let me know peace. But it's the job I signed up for when I took up the role as Hero." Harry laughed bitterly.

Hermione closed her eyes. She had never known. She had never known all the horrors he had to face. Harry was right in the fact that their worlds never overlapped. That they lived entirely different lives. His was one of death and destruction. Of pain and terror. Her's was one of analytical thinking, of pure thought, and order.

"I guess its now or never." Harry said, tearing open the letter. A metal disk fell out and a small piece of parchment.

We need to talk.

Dumbledore.

'That's it?" Hermione asked.

"It usually is." Harry said. "I hate portkeys." He added, staring at the metal disk.

"Are you going now?" Hermione asked.

"Looks like it." Harry said. 'It's been nice seeing you Hermione. See you in another five years?" He asked, smiling.

"I should hope not. Emily'll probably want to see you again." Hermione didn't mention she might want to see him again also.

There was a sudden knock to the front door of the cottage. Harry looked at Hermione. Seconds later there was a screech of excitement and the sound of running feet. Emily burst into the kitchen.

"Mommy! Mommy! It's Uncle Ronny!" She squealed in delight.

Hermione flinched, suddenly remembering what it was that she was supposed to do today. She cursed under her breath.

Harry just watched her, a small grin on his face. "Looks like all sorts of people are dropping by today.


	5. Meetings With Old Friends

**Chapter Five**

**Meetings with Old Friends**

"Open the door, Mommy!" Emily said frantically.

Hermione hesitated for a moment and glanced at Harry. He grinned slightly and shrugged. Hermione hesitated for another moment and with a slight feeling of dread got to her feet, Emily by this time was nearly running circles around her as she dragged her feet to the door. She heard Harry rise from his chair and follow her.

"Please let there be no trouble." She muttered to herself. She didn't know how badly Harry and Ron's relationship had degenerated. The last she knew was that they couldn't stand to be in the same room together. It was far worse between the two of them than it was between Harry and Dumbledore. The closest of friends, now not quiet enemies, but still it was a bad thing to have them in the same place at the same time.

The door seemed to suddenly appear before her and Hermione reached out for the letch, muttering once more for everything to be okay. She opened the door and a tall red headed figure was standing on the steps. His face brightened when he saw Hermione, a flash of white teeth and bright eyes.

Hermione could not help but notice how well he was dressed, clean and pressed robes of a dark blue color. In one hand he carried a small bouquet of flowers, which he presented to her with a flourish.

"Good Morning, Hermione." Ron said brightly. "Sorry I'm early, but you know me." He grinned.

Hermione smiled back slowly, accepting the flowers and levitating them toward a shelf. "Good Morning, Ron." She said, a bit stiffly.

"Uncle Ronny!" Emily screeched, squirming past Hermione's legs and then tackling Ron with the ferocity of a child. Ron laughed, catching the little girl and swinging her up into the air. She squealed in delight. "Again!" She cried.

"Oof." Ron grunted, setting down the girl. "You're getting bigger and bigger every time I see you. Soon you'll be bigger than I am." He joked and Emily nodded excitedly at the thought of standing over six feet tall. Ron smiled at Hermione again. "You guys ready for a fun filled adventurous day?"

Hermione plastered on a smile, nodding.

"Uncle Ronny, do you know what?" Emily asked, tugging on Ron's robes.

"What?" Ron asked indulgently.

"Harry Potter is here." Emily announced, smiling hugely.

Ron stiffened and stared at Hermione. She could already see the anger and jealousy burning in his eyes, but it was all washed out with a flare of hate. "Is it true?" He asked, his voice low and rough.

"Yeah. I'm here." Harry said slipping past Hermione. He looked Ron up and down and grinned. "How's it going, friend?" He stuck out his hand.

Ron glared at him and then roughly slapped away his extended hand. "What are you doing here?" He demanded, clenching his fists. Emily stared wide-eyed at the two. Ron used his full height, towering over Harry, his face flushing with anger and his eyes flashing like lightning.

"Just visiting." Harry said casually, seemingly unaffected by Ron's stance. He seemed completely calm, as if the hate and the anger radiating from Ron meant nothing. Harry glanced to Hermione and smiled, a tight small smile. He then turned away from Ron, facing the morning sun and taking a deep breath of morning air. "Beautiful day isn't it? It's always a beautiful morning after it rains."

Hermione just stood back and watched. She didn't know what to do, should she intervene before anything unwanted happened? She took hold of Emily's hand and held onto her. She couldn't think of anything to say that would ease the hate and the anger that they both felt for one another.

It had been a long and hard road, but she knew it was up to them to heal what ever lay between them. She had done all she could and none of it made one difference.

"Visiting?" Ron growled, his eyes boring holes into Harry's back. If looks could kill, Hermione thought. Ron turned to Hermione, the anger was still there, but the hate seemed to vanish at the sight of her. "Is it true?" His voice was low.

Hermione nodded. "He came by last night." She said.

"Last night." Ron muttered, shaking his head and stepping back. He glared at Harry again,. Hermione saw his face begin to flush and his fists clench tighter.

"Nothing happened. He just dropped by looking for a place to stay the night." Hermione added hastily.

"How have you been, Ron? It's been what? Six years since I last saw you?" Harry asked, facing Ron again.

"What are you doing here?" Ron snapped, his face was turning a brilliant red with barely contained anger.

"Just visiting." Harry responded. Harry stepped back a pace or two and looked at the three of them. Ron still standing near the door, Hermione holding Emily at the door. He smiled sadly for a moment. "Yeah this looks right." He said to himself.

Hermione felt a wave of embarrassment and she didn't know why. It felt like she were caught cheating red handed, but this couldn't be considered cheating. Harry had left her five years before and not once had he tried contacting her. She had moved on with her life. She wasn't doing anything wrong. Hermione nodded to herself and squared her shoulders, staring back at Harry defiantly.

She was expecting something from him. she didn't know why, maybe his anger or jealousy that she was dating again. What she didn't expect was for him to laugh. Ron glanced at Hermione, his face still flushed, not from anger, but embarrassment.

Harry cleared his throat. "I hope you kids have fun whatever you're doing. I'm not here to interrupt your lives, I just came to see how everyone was doing." Harry said, Hermione felt a sudden feeling that she wasn't going to see Harry anymore. He grinned at them.

Harry walked over to Emily, pulling out a small necklace. "This is for you. It's a picture of your grandparents. They were Aurors and they were good people, ask your mum about them someday." He said, ruffling her hair. Emily just stared down at the locket in her hands, not knowing what to say to the unexpected gift. Harry stood up again and grinned at them all, Hermione didn't know why but he seemed sadden about something. "Well, I have people to see and things to do." He up-ended Dumbledore's letter, dropping the metal disk into his palm, and then vanished.

There was silence in the wake of his leaving. Ron was still staring at the spot he had vanished from and Hermione was trying to sort out the feelings that swarmed her. She looked down at Emily and saw her staring at the moving pictures of Harry's parents. She blinked back tears, she had given him that locket when he had been accepted for Auror Training.

"Well, that's a grand way to start the day." Ron said, sighing.

Hermione could only nod. He had left her again and again he hadn't said goodbye. She felt like crying.

XXXX

Harry didn't like seeing Dumbledore. It made him feel like a child, like he was still in school. He stood silently upon the rising staircase, the gargoyles had greeted him friendly enough, but Harry felt an unwanted feeling of nervousness. He sighed, running his hands through his hair. Dumbledore could have at least chosen a better place to meet, somewhere other than his office in the middle of Hogwarts. A place where they could be on almost equal terms with the Headmaster, instead of somewhere where Dumbledore held all the cards and could do what he willed.

Harry shook his head, Dumbledore may be scheming, but so far he wasn't out for him, yet. Harry grinned at that. Maybe one day he'd cross that line Dumbledore had in his mind and become a hindrance rather than a help in making the world a better place. For some reason that calmed Harry down. He straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath, just as the stairs stopped at Dumbledore's office.

"You've failed." Dumbledore said, his voice low.

Harry was ready for a quick quip, but it died on his lips. He may have hated Dumbledore, despised his actions, but those words tore though him. Harry grunted as if it had been a physical blow, but he shook it off. He was stronger than this, but some part of him felt sadden by the fact that he had failed his old mentor.

"He still lives." Dumbledore continued. Harry sat upon a chair before his desk, suddenly feeling exactly like a student, being brought to Dumbledore's office for sage advice and comfort.

Harry closed his eyes, and tried to hold back the wave of memories. The fear, the yelling, the frantic fighting, and the dead. So many dead. He pulled off his glasses and harshly rubbed his eyes. They felt gritty and a sudden weariness flooded him.

"I tried my best." Harry said. He had no excuses. Dumbledore was right in that he had failed. For the first time in five years he hadn't been able to carry out what he began. For the first time in five years he met someone stronger than he was.

"He still lives." Dumbledore said again.

"You think I don't know that?" Harry snapped.

Dumbledore peered at him over his half moon glasses, his eyes calm and almost fatherly. "What went wrong?" He asked.

"Everything." Harry said. "I lost three people. One who'll never see again and another who'll probably die by tonight."

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"He was stronger than we thought." Harry said.

"Impossible." Dumbledore said.

"You think I'd make that up? I lost three people!" Harry shouted, rising to his feet. "You weren't there, you didn't see the shit he managed to do, against seven of us." Harry slumped back in his chair. "God, they were trained and they were experienced. They were tough and good people and that bastard killed them as if they were nothing. We barely managed to escape as it was, that's where his little sidekick the Grim Lord stuck me."

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment. "Why did you go to Hermione's home?" He asked.

"What business is it to you?" Demanded Harry.

"You just lost a battle to this creature and you suddenly turn up at Hermione's house. I need to know." Dumbledore said.

Harry sighed. "I went there to say goodbye." He replied.

Dumbledore was silent.

"I've called in all my debts, all those that I know, and all those that are willing. They'll be here by tomorrow night. The others are making the preparations that are needed. For now we just have to wait, to wait for the reinforcements and for him to make the next move. We'll know where he is when he does, just look for the place with a sudden large amount of people disappearing." Harry said.

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "They need to come faster, this creature will be weakened after this battle. He'll seek to regain his strength and who knows how many people will die because of it."

"It can't be helped." Harry said. He knew he sounded cold blooded, but there were times when it was needed. There were times when you couldn't think about all the lives and families that would be destroyed by the simple action of being inactive, of waiting and biding your time. "The people I've called are coming in from across the globe, they can't just drop things and be here instantly. People will die, yes. But how many more will die if we don't bring enough force to bear against him and get defeated?"

"The Order must be reactivated. We must bring everything we can against this creature, all of the Order and all of the Aurors we have." Dumbledore said.

Harry sighed. "This'll be a bloody mess of a fight with the people I'm bringing, toss in the Order and the Aurors, it'll be a bloody nightmare. You're mixing people who've never seen one another or even know who's who. We'll be lucky if half of them don't kill one another from simple mistaken identity."

"What do you suggest then?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry almost bristled at the question, but then realized Dumbledore wasn't being condescending, only curious. Harry thought for a moment and quickly sketched out a plan, Dumbledore nodded. "That should ease up on the confusion and if we fail they'll be you to swoop in." Harry said.

"Your people will be in the heart of things, you'll be suffering heavy casualties from this attack."

Harry nodded. "It can't be helped. Plus the people I'm bringing will be like me. No real family ties, if they die they'll be few who'll miss them. It's better this way."

Dumbledore just watched Harry. Harry couldn't stand the sadness and pity that filled his eyes, he looked away.

"Christ." Harry muttered suddenly realizing something. "Hermione's gonna be in this attack to, isn't she." Dumbledore nodded. "Don't bring her in. I don't want her there."

"She's one of the strongest witches we have. She needs to be there." Dumbledore said.

"Like hell she does. You leave her where she is, with her daughter. You don't bring her into this mess. If we fail and die she'll find a way to carry on, if we win then she'll never have to know. She wasn't born for this kind of life, she's a thinker not a fighter." Harry said angrily. "People like us have a very bad tendency for people around us to die while we continue on. I don't want Hermione to be there, understood?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "What are you going to do now?"

"I had panned to spend the day with my daughter and Hermione." Harry said bitterly. Dumbledore only nodded again, saying nothing. "There are a couple of things that I need to take care of before things begin. Put my things in order and whatnot."

"Do you think it's going to be that bad?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "I think it'll be worst. You just keep your Aurors and Order ready, we'll do the main killing and dying, but its up to you to make sure that bastard doesn't come out alive." Harry got to his feet. "I'll send you an owl when we're ready to go."

"Wait." Dumbledore flicked his hand and bag appeared upon the desk. "Take this."

Harry looked down at the bag. "The mission's not over." He said.

"Call it paying up in front. I know what you do with this." Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded and grabbed the bag, swinging it over one shoulder and heading for the door. "I'll contact you by tomorrow." He said, before heading down the stairs.

Dumbledore watched the door for a moment and then sighed, dropping his head upon his desk and closing his eyes. He felt a wave of sadness, not for what Harry had become. He felt sadness for he saw something in Harry's eyes. He saw death.

Death had finally come for Harry and Dumbledore didn't know what he could do to prevent it.


	6. Where the Heart is

**Chapter Six**

Where the Heart Is 

She was beautiful.

Harry sighed, closing his eyes. Everything about her was beautiful, her eyes, her hair, the way she moved, the way she talked, the small mischievous smile on her face, the open honesty of her expressions. Harry smiled at the thought of her; she was everything he never was. She was happy, she was loved, she was comforted in the dark of night, she was held when she was hurting.

"Emily." Harry said the name, it felt right.

Harry smiled to himself. He could imagine a life with her, of laughter and talks over breakfast, of teaching her to ride her first broom, of teaching her magic and spells, the happiness, the peace, and the joy. There would never be killings, there would never be moments of pure blind fear, panic, and pain. There would only be love and there would be only peace, there would be contentment.

He would still work for the Ministry; he would still be an Auror. Keeping the peace and stopping the small and petty criminals. After work he would come home, talk and play with her, read to her before bedtime. He would tell her stories of her grandparents, of all the people that had been apart of his life, stories of his times at school.

She would never know the fear, the loneliness and the suffering that had been his childhood. There would never be anyone looking to kill her, there would never be a monster who wanted her dead. She would have a childhood. She would never have to be forced to grow up before her time; she would never have to forgo the wondrous experiences of growing up. She would be loved and she would know peace.

Darkness covered the world. Harry opened his eyes and looked to the sky, large black clouds were coming from the west and the sun was consumed by them, vanishing behind their thick canopy and covering the land in a darkness. Harry could feel the wind picking up, the thickening of the air and the smell of rain in the far distance.

He sighed. A storm was coming.

He felt his daydreams shatter and splinter into a million pieces. They would never work. He couldn't be the man he wanted to be, he couldn't be the father, the husband he wished. He could only be what he was, a murderer, an assassin, a killer for hire. Harry looked down at his hands, rough and scarred. How much blood covered them? How much blood had they spilled, gallons upon gallons.

They had all deserved to die. But what did that mean? They were living and breathing people, they had known love, they had known joy, and he had taken all that away from them. He had turned them into nothing more than meat and bones. Tearing the life out of them or crushing it from them.

And there were always more after them. There was always someone else to take the place of the person he toppled. Another man or woman who craved power and did anything that was necessary to secure it. There was always someone else, a never-ending supply of Dark Lord and Ladies to fill the spot.

Then there were the others, the ones who were trying to make a name for themselves. If it wasn't a job that was putting his life on the line, it was fools who thought that if they killed Harry Potter, they would gain the respect, gratitude, and fear of those who attempted to rule the world.

Peace was something he was not allowed. Peace was something he could never have. He had done too much, caused too much pain and misery on his own to deserve peace. Too many people had died and been hurt for him, too many people had suffered because of him; he deserved his life. He deserved the pain, the darkness, the loneliness, and the elusive figure of death that mocked him and kept its distance.

It was best that Hermione and Emily stay where they were. It was best that they never have to be subjected to the pain and the destruction that was his life. They deserved their peace, they deserved their love, and no matter how much it hurt him, he knew they didn't need him and they were far better off without him. He could only bring pain and hurt, he could never bring love or happiness.

Rain began to splatter down upon him. Harry raised his head to the sky and felt it wash over him. The rain poured down his face, washing away the tears. It's cold touch chilled him and as his clothing soaked he began to shiver, the air suddenly turning cold and the wind picking up.

Harry opened his eyes, the world a blur in his rain streaked glasses and the pounding of rain drowning out all the other noises. He got to his feet, running a hand across the metal of the swing he had been sitting upon. Memories of times long ago flashed through his mind and he smiled. It had been a place of seclusion and peace, a place where he could think and be alone.

He picked up his bag from the ground, a spell keeping it safe and dry and began walking down the streets. Square identical houses lined the road, but Harry knew where he was going, his feet carrying him there. To a house with a car out front and the warm glow of lights coming from the windows. He paused on the steps and knocked.

The door opened and a girl began screaming.

**XXXX**

"Uncle Harry!" A small dark haired girl screamed in delight and suddenly Harry was nearly knocked back as she dove for him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and laughing. "You're back!"

Harry grunted, staggering back a few steps into the rain. He set her back down at the entrance and smiled down at the girl. "Nice to see you too, Jellybean." He said, ruffling her hair. Angelica frowned smoothing her unruly hair back into a semblance of order. "Merlin's Beard! You're just getting bigger and bigger every time I see you."

"Its Joan's cooking. I say she adds something into to make her grow. It's sure making my stomach grow." A voice said.

Harry looked to the door and grinned. "It's damn good to see you, Dudley." He said, reaching out and grasping the hand Dudley had extended.

"It's been too long, Harry." Dudley said, pulling him into a hug. As always Harry felt engulfed in his huge arms. Like his father Dudley was a big man, but where his father had been fat, Dudley was not. "Come inside. It's dreadful out here." Angelica was running down the short hall yelling, "Uncle Harry's home!" Dudley watched her, a small smile on his face.

Harry stepped inside the house and suddenly everything felt right. He was home, if any place he could call home it was here. The heady smells of cooking dinner was in the air and Harry felt his stomach rumble in response. "It's good to be back, Dudley." He said.

Dudley laughed, slapping him on the back, nearly staggering him. "Better dry off or Joan's gonna skin you for leaking water everywhere." Dudley cautioned.

Harry looked down and noticed puddle of water beneath him. "Thanks. I always forget to dry up. It's a wonder anyone ever lets me in their home." Harry snapped his fingers and there was a rush of warm air, the rain drenched clothes drying immediately.

Dudley watched him, nodding slightly. "I gotta learn that trick." He said. "Come on, it'll be a while before Joan finishes up cooking. You're staying for dinner, right? No running off?" Harry nodded as Dudley led him into the living room.

As always it looked different for Harry. The living room had always been neat and clean under Aunt Petunia's care, as if no one ever touched it. Now, it looked lived in. The television was on, there was a scattering of toys upon the floor, a scattering of shoes, old magazines, and a feeling of love and happiness in the air.

Dudley sat down heavily into a large leather chair, kicking stocking feet onto a footstool. Harry took a seat in a chair and looked around a bit, Dudley watched him.

"Its been a while, Harry." Dudley said.

Harry nodded, leaning back in the chair and pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "I meant to come by earlier, but you know how it is. Busy time of the year." He joked.

Dudley nodded. "Still making the world a better place." He unconsciously ran a land along his arm.

Harry nodded. "I'm doing my best. But it's getting harder and harder." Harry said quietly. Harry looked up and saw worry in Dudley's eyes.

"Harry!" Joan suddenly entered the room, wiping her hand on a towel. Harry smiled at the always smiling, blonde haired woman, and rose giving her a quick hug. She looked him up and down. "My, you're just getting skinnier and skinner every time we see you. Don't you ever eat?" She asked mock sternness in her voice.

"I try when I can." Harry said, smiling. Joan was a short and slight woman, barely reaching Harry's chin. She always reminded Harry of Ron's mother, Molly, always happy to see him, always smiling, and always cooking something. Harry's smile faltered for a moment, shoving away unwanted memories. Joan was a good woman just as Molly had been.

"I heard about explosion and fighting in Dublin." She said bluntly, placing hands on hips. "The Ministry was rife with rumors this morning and all of them about you. What have you been doing?" Harry winced, he'd forgotten that Joan worked for the Ministry and was always the first to get news when anything of import happened.

"Now, Joan. Be nice." Dudley said, setting a light hand upon her arm. She smiled down at him, but when she looked at Harry the smile was gone. "You need to be more careful, one of these days you'll get hurt." She said sternly, but Harry could see fear in her eyes. "I see you've got another one." There was no satisfaction in her voice, only a flatness.

Harry glanced down at the bag he had been carrying. "Yeah." He said simply. He sighed and slumped in his chair, staring moodily at the television.

The silence seemed to stretch for a long time, finally Joan cleared her throat. 'Well, dinner will be done soon. You boys wash up. I expect you'll be staying for dinner?" She looked at Harry until he nodded in response. "Well then, it'll be a happy family dinner. She smiled again, and then glanced at a wall clock. "It's almost six. You'd better check on little Vernon. Make sure the little beast hasn't shimmied out of his crib and climbed out the window."

Dudley sighed. Joan glanced at Harry. 'You'd better go with him too. I swear this man's almost no use to me. If it wasn't for the children I'd go and marry a nice wizard somewhere." She said, glaring down at him.

"I love you too, dear." Dudley said, smiling.

Harry watched the by play and smiled. He wondered if this was how life would have been if he'd stayed with Hermione. If he'd never answered that fist letter. If...

Harry shook his head, getting to his feet. The past was the past and there was nothing he could do to change it. Well, nothing legally. He snorted, even then things never turned out the way you wanted it.

Angelica ambushed them on the stairs, squealing in delight as Harry threw her on his back and carried her up the stairs. Dudley warned them to not make too much noise as they walked down the hall. Harry deposited her by her room, which happened to be Dudley's old room.

"You're room's still as you left it." Dudley said.

Harry nodded unable to say anything. "Thanks." He managed.

Dudley grinned. "Well, let's see if Vernon's made a mess." He pushed open the door and entered the darken room.

Vernon was round and wrinkled with small dark eyes watching them as they entered the room. Harry smiled for a moment as the image called up the memory of the man the child was named after. "Nice kid." Harry said, trying not to laugh out loud.

Dudley laughed. "That's what everyone says. The little monster's an eyesore. Joan says she's seen mandrakes that were prettier." Dudley grinned, pulling the baby out of its crib, it yawned widely and stared at Harry. "But Angelica looked like a hairless monkey when she was born, but now she's pretty as a button, hopefully this little bugger becomes a little easier on the eyes as he gets older. If he doesn't Joan's a Witch, I'm sure she'll find something." He ruffled his son's dark hair.

"Look what Daddy got me, Uncle." Angelica said from the doorway. In her arms she carried a floppy eared puppy, it looked at Harry with hope in its eyes. Harry knew how much Angelica liked to play with her new things and he was sure the puppy hadn't had a moment's rest since it was brought home.

"Nice puppy. What's its name?" Harry asked, kneeling down before her.

"His name's Harry, too. Want to pet him?" She shoved the dog into his arms and immediately it squirmed out and scurried out the door, padded feet running frantically down the hall. Angelica sighed with exasperation. "He keeps wanting to play hide and seek!" She said running after him.

"Pity the puppy." Dudley said. Harry looked back and saw him sitting in a rocking chair, Vernon in his arms and a bottle in his mouth. "The little thing hasn't had a chance to sleep since we brought him home. But at least it keeps her out of our hair."

"Nice parenting." Harry said, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Dudley snorted. "Hey, that girl's a double handful. More than this little troll here." The last words were said in a loving cooing voice, as Dudley tickled the baby's nose. Vernon ignored him and sucked nosily on the bottle.

"Definitely a Dursley." Harry remarked.

"Well, he's quiet now, thank God. Normally you can probably hear his screaming all the way to America. He's got the lungs of a Dursley, the size of a Dursley, and definitely the appetite. You should think of settling down and raising a brood too. They're horrible little monsters, but you can't help but loving them. Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot." Dudley quickly apologized as he saw Harry's expression.

Harry forced a smile on his face. "No. It's all right." He laughed hollowly. He sighed and looked out the window of the room. It was still raining, not heavily but enough that he could still hear it as it pelted against the glass panes. "I saw her. I visited Hermione and Emily last night. Stayed the night and left this morning."

"And?" Dudley asked cautiously.

"I envy what you and Joan have. I wished I could have stayed and watched Emily grow, to be there for her first words, first steps, when she was scared, or happy." Harry shook his head. "Damn. I shouldn't have gone there, I shouldn't have seen them. It was better that I stayed away."

"Better for who?" Dudley asked. "You can't save everyone by staying away from them. Trust me. You've tried that line and it doesn't work." Dudley lifted up a sleeved arm.

Harry looked up at Dudley bleakly. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

Dudley shook his head. "What happened, happened. But you bagged that bastard yourself and he paid for all the shit he did in the end." Dudley said, clenching his free hand into a fist. He closed his eyes for a moment and looked down at his son. "If that didn't happened then I wouldn't have met Joan and I wouldn't have my family. I still love my parents and nothing can replace that." He looked at Harry. "Look. Bad things happen to good people, that's the perversion of life. That monster took away both our parents, but in the end he paid for what he did. That's what you do, you make sure monsters like that don't ever tear anymore children away from their parents or break apart families in their bloody climb to power."

Harry nodded, unable to look at Dudley. "I wanted to go to Hermione and get things off my chest. To tell her the things that I should have five years ago, but I think I just scared her out of her mind while I was there." Harry laughed sadly. "That's me I guess. I went to be with them and all I did was put fear into them."

"What is going on? I mean you're not you usual jovial self." Dudley asked after a moment's silence. "Does it have to deal with the thing that happened in Dublin? Are we in trouble?"

Harry sighed. "See? What did I tell you. I try to visit family and all I do is scare them. I don't want you guys to worry. I'll deal with this mess and everything will be fine." Harry replied.

"Are you sure?" Dudley asked.

"I-"Harry began.

"What's going on here?" Joan demanded. She stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, and a look on her face. "You two have been gone a while, I was worried you'd lost Vernon or something."

"Nope, the little troll's still here." Dudley said, gesturing to the baby in his arms. Vernon was asleep, the bottle still clutched to his chest and a small trail of milk running down his chin.

"Definitely a Dursley." Harry muttered to himself.

"He is not a troll! Don't call him that!" Joan snapped. She glared at Dudley who only grinned. "What have you two been gossiping about?"

"Men stuff." Harry said.

"Men?" Joan snorted eyeing the two. "All I see is an ugly wet nurse and a vagrant in a serious need of a shave. Now, what have you two have been talking about?" She placed her hands on her hips.

"You have to hand it to her, she can smell juicy gossip from a mile away." Dudley said, settling Vernon back into his crib.

Joan snorted again. "Men they gossip about the most inane things. Leave them alone for a minute and they can't stop talking." She waited at the doorway for a moment, and then cast a final glare at the two. "Dinner's ready, if I can tear you two apart for a moment. Eat before it gets cold or Angie knocks it over chasing that mutt around. I told you to get something more manageable, like a cat or a rabbit. Dogs only get bigger and messier." With that she turned and walked out of the room, muttering, "Men Stuff, honestly!"

"Feeding babies and talking about feelings." Harry muttered, suppressing a grin.

Dudley laughed. "Hey, I got some beer downstairs."

Harry nodded, getting off the floor. "Yeah, lots of beer. That should do it."

"Better yet. Brandy and cigars." Dudley said, slapping Harry on the back as they walked out of the nursery.


	7. New Hopes, Old Scars

**Chapter Seven**

**New Hopes, Old Scars**

"It's a good thing you came back on a weekend." Dudley said as Harry walked into the kitchen the next morning. Harry glanced at Dudley who was sipping coffee calmly at the table, a newspaper lay opened before him and a very large plate of food beside it. Joan was humming to herself, cooking up something.

"Why's that?" Harry groaned, flopping down in the chair across from Dudley. A cup appeared by his arm and he began drinking a strong bitter brew inside it. "Nice." He muttered, he could almost feel it burning a hole in his stomach, but it did manage to open his eyes, if not stop that dreadful pounding of drums in his head.

"Because any other day I wouldn't be able to drink you under the table." Dudley continued grinning. He looked obscenely cheerful and alert.

"It's about the only thing he's good at." Joan said, setting a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, and potatoes before Harry. "Eat up and don't you dare say you're not hungry."

Harry sighed, feeling his stomach rumble, but not from hunger, he looked around. "Where are the kids?" He asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Jelly's at a birthday party. There's supposed to be clowns, a pony, and all sorts of fun and games." Dudley said, digging into his food.

Joan rolled her eyes. "It's amazing what Muggles find humorous for their kids. Those clowns, though, they look more frightening than funny." She took a sip of her coffee, wincing at its bitter taste, then pouring a large quantity of cream and sugar into it. "The first time I saw one of those things, I nearly ran screaming out the room." She continued.

Dudley smirked. "She did go running out of the room screaming, took nearly two hours to coax her out of the coat closet she hid in."

"So, Harry." Joan said, changing the subject and shooting a glare at Dudley's direction. "What's on your agenda today?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm just waiting for some people to arrive, get a few more things into order, then get a few chores done." He said, finally digging into his food. It actually was very good, even on a protesting stomach. Harry wondered briefly how Dudley managed not to balloon back up to his old weight with Joan cooking his meals. Harry always seemed to have to let out his belt after every visit.

Dudley watched him intently. "What kind of chores?" He asked slowly.

"You know the usual. Taking out the rubbish and cleaning up." Harry grinned faintly. "Have to meet a few old friends later tonight, they're coming in from all over."

Joan was frowning. "You're slowly becoming like Dumbledore, y'know that? You make these almost cryptic responses, never coming out and saying what you really want to say." Harry flinched, but he knew she was right.

"You want to know the truth?" Harry set aside his fork and sighed, watching the two people who were pretty much the only family he had left. "There's this murdering bastard named Asedemon with a few powerful followers and small army of minions. Very original in his goals though, not only does he want to conquer the world, but he also wants to kill off all the Muggles and create a society where there's only pureblood Witches and Wizards. Remind you of anyone?" Harry laughed darkly. "The thing is that he's found a way to take the life energy from people, mainly Muggles. People are killed around him and he sucks it up, making himself more powerful in the process. Though that power gets used up pretty fast and he needs to gain more of it, meaning more killing of people."

"The killing people for power thing was something new we didn't know. All we knew was that a lot of people tended to die when this bastard came to a place." Harry shook his head, suddenly struck by the image of the bloodied, broken bodies of his friends. "We hit his place in Dublin, killed a few of his people, one of his Lieutenants and probably drained what power he managed to get off those poor bastards he had just killed. He killed three of my people, injured two, without breaking a sweat. We barely managed to get out of that damned mess. Don't know where he is now." Harry looked up.

Joan's eyes were wide and Dudley looked very pale and very queasy. He shoved away his plate of food. "Christ." Dudley whispered.

Harry set his elbows upon the table, dropping his head into his hands. "It does no good telling you this shit. All it'll do is make you worry like hell and cause more harm than good. Telling things truthfully usually does that." Harry sighed, glancing at the two. "I'll get this bastard and all will be back to normal, you won't even notice a thing wrong. It'll be back to peace and quiet again, at least until the next one comes along." Harry laughed again, cold and humorless.

" I should have kept my mouth closed." Joan said, taking a convulsive gulp of coffee.

Dudley laughed. "That's the fist time I've seen anyone shut her up."

"How can you laugh and make jokes at a time like this?" Joan demanded angrily.

"How can I not? There's that or wail in terror and sob underneath my bed." Dudley said seriously. "Plus, we all know Harry's gonna slag this ass." He shot a thumbs up sign to Harry, who only nodded back bleakly.

"I'll do my best." Harry said, draining his cup.

"You damn better well.' Dudley said. "Jelly's not gonna grow up without a uncle to spoil her rotten, cuz I sure as hell won't, and Vernon's gonna need someone to teach him to ride a broom when he gets older. You think I can do that? The only thing Joan knows about brooms is that they're used for sweeping."

Harry smiled. "I guess my life's not mine to forfeit." He said.

"You sure as hell right it isn't." Dudley thumped his arm upon the table. "It's mine to do with as I see fit. It's just on loan to you for the moment.."

Harry nodded slowly. "Actually that was one of the reasons I can here." He said, levitating the bag he had been carrying around to the table. "Dumbledore decided to be generous and paid me up front." He unlatched the bag and pulled out a small wooden box. "I'll never be able to repay what you've done for me, Dudley. But this goes a long way to making things right between us."

Dudley shook his head. "I was just kidding, Harry." He began.

Harry opened the wooden box and a soft golden light infused the room. Joan gasped, eyes wide. "Is that what I think it is?" She asked softly.

"What is it?" Dudley asked, peering into the box.

"Philosopher's Stone."

XXX

"How did you get…where did you…Wait a minute! That bag was sitting in the living room all night!" Joan cried. "Someone could have just come in an taken it. Angie could have dug into it!"

"What's a philosophy stone?" Dudley asked.

"Philosopher's Stone." Harry corrected. "The epitome of alchemy. It can give you immortal life and it can turn any metal into pure gold. Very powerful magic."

Dudley was nodding, not looking impressed. "Who'd want to live forever?" He asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his coffee.

"I know of several people who would, but they're not exactly the nicest people in the world." Harry said, snapping the wooden box shut. The golden light faded and Joan blinked shaking her head.

"And Dumbledore just gave that to you?" She asked, incredulity heavy in her voice.

Harry smiled. "Let's just say the old man owed me." He said simply. He sat back down and sighed.

Dudley was watching him, a thoughtful frown on his face. "So." He said after a moment. "What are you offering us? Immortality? All the gold we want?"

Harry shook his head. "Like you said, who'd want to live forever? Gold? Wealth can never buy the things you really want. No. What I'm offering you is a cure, or at least as much of a cure as possible." He said.

Dudley glanced at Joan who suddenly gasped, realizing what was possible with a stone that could hold back death. "Is it possible?" She asked. "I mean…is it possible?"

"I've spoken with several healers from across the world. Even with Flamel and Dumbledore a couple of years ago. They all agree that with the Philosopher's Stone there's a very good chance that the sickness could be halted, maybe even pushed back. For an entire cure…I'm not sure." Dudley stared at the wooden box, his face expressionless. Harry understood his thoughtfulness, too many times he had returned with a promise of a cure. Too many times they had been disappointed. But now. Now they had the Philosopher's Stone.

"How certain are you?" Dudley asked.

Harry glanced down at the box. "Certain enough. There's no real way to know until we try it. I'm not promising anything." He said.

Joan settled a hand upon Dudley's shoulder, concern and a little hope shining in her eyes. "What do you think, Dudley?"

"Hope springs eternal. That's what I think. What do I have besides hope?" He grinned momentarily. "Do it then. Let's see what this philosophy stone of yours can do. Hopefully it won't be as bad as some of your other miracle cures." The words were made in jest, but Harry could hear the underlying anger. "So how do you use it? Eat it?"

Harry shook his head. "No. The Stone is basically that, a stone. It's in its raw form, nothing more than potential. We're going to have to distill it further, to make the potion we need." He looked to Joan who was already nodding.

"I got my potions lab still set up. What do you need?" She asked.

Harry dug into the pockets of the bag, pulling out a piece of parchment and handed it to her. Joan read it and frowned. "This all?" She asked.

Harry grinned. "Sometimes the simplest things are the most powerful." He said.

"I can whip this up in a few minutes, maybe half an hour." She pecked Dudley on the cheek and carefully picked up the small box, walking slowly out of the kitchen.

Dudley watched her go, sighing. "She's more into these cures than I am. I think she just likes brewing the potions. She's gotten really good at them these last couple of years." He said, picking up his cup and taking a long sip.

"Well, she loves you. What do you expect?" Harry said, pushing around the eggs upon his plate. He cleared his throat. "How's your arm?"

Dudley flexed his left arm. "About how it's always been. Black, shrunken, and hurting like hell." He shrugged. "Three times a week I have to drink that swill that Joan makes. Tastes like fried hell and I've never understood the phrase 'the cure's worst than the disease' until I began drinking that shit." He grinned.

"Can I see?" Harry asked.

Dudley grinned again. "Come to see the freak show, have you?" But he was already unbuttoning his shirt.

"How can you be happy all the time?" Harry asked.

"How can you be such a miserable git all the time? It's either laugh or cry. I've cried enough to last me. For now, I'll just enjoy what life gives me. A good wife, two lovely children, and a decent job that I like." He pulled off his shirt and extended his left arm upon the table. "Take a gander. It's guaranteed to turn you stomach, make little kids scream, grown men faint, and curdle milk up to ten feet away."

Harry pushed aside this cup and plate, smiling faintly. "Trust me, I've seen worst. Has it been hurting badly lately?" He asked.

Dudley shrugged. "The usual deep throbbing pain, occasional lightning flashes of agony, but nothing really different. It's amazing the things you can get use to after a while. We saw a doctor at St. Mungos a couple of weeks back when things got really bad. They recommended some potion to keep the pain away, but when I tried it, it only made me sleepy and exhausted. So I've been without it."

Harry nodded looking at Dudley's exposed arm. It looked like a regular limb; everything about it was normal, or as normal as Harry could make it. A lot of magic had gone into making the arm so that Dudley could feel with it and use it regularly. Harry hesitated for a moment and touched the arm with his wand, a second later the pale flesh vanished, replaced with a sickening looking stub.

Dudley sighed. "Sometimes I can almost pretend it's not there." He whispered.

From the shoulder to the elbow the skin was taunt and black. The muscle gone and the arm comically stick thin. From the elbow onward, there was nothing left. The potions kept the sickens at bay, but Harry knew the sickness continued to have hold on the flesh and bone. A sickness that had all the healers stumped and one that managed to defeat cure after countless cure. Always growing stronger. Ten years now, ten years that Dudley had carried around the payment for Harry's mistake.

Harry tried to push away the thoughts and concentrated upon the arm. Everything looked normal. There were no signs of the sickness spreading beyond the arm, meaning that it had not managed to adapt to the potion. Too many times that had happen, where the sickness managed to adapt and change, making more strides into Dudley's flesh.

"Pretty sight ain't it?" Dudley muttered, his voice strained and his gaze fixed upon the wall clock across the kitchen.

"I'm sorry." Harry said, tapping his wand upon the arm and the illusion returned. Dudley sighed with relief, flexing the arm.

"I know it's not real, but it feels real." He said, using his left hand to pick up his cup of coffee.

Harry leaned back in his chair, feeling exhausted. "Well the good thing is that the infection hasn't spread. The potion it seems is still holding out."

"Hooray." Dudley remarked sarcastically. Harry sighed. "Don't!" Dudley warned.

"Don't what?" Harry asked.

"I know that damn sigh when I hear it." Dudley said. "Oh, Dudley! I'm sorry! I never meant for this to happen!" He said imitating Harry in a high falsetto voice.

Harry had to laugh. "Do I really sound like that?"

"No. You sound worst." Dudley said, draining his cup. He quickly pulled his shirt back on." What happened, happened. We can't fix it and wishing for things to have turned out better won't help. All we can do is to continue on with what we have, otherwise we'll spend all the good days regretting things we had no control over."

Harry nodded. "Philosophy from Dudley. Now I've heard it all." He grinned.

"Always see the brighter side of things. That's what I say."

"That's s-" Harry began but then there was knocking upon the front door.

Dudley sighed. "You know every time we try to have a conversation it always gets interrupted. If this isn't an emergency I'm gonna skin this little bugger and hang him from the lamppost outside." Dudley said rising to his feet and heading for the front door. Moments later. "Harry! Someone wants to see you."

Cautiously Harry proceeded to the door. He stopped in the hall; wand drawn and then saw who it was. With a snarl he stalked to the door and grabbed the person by the front of his robes. Robes! Could he not even have changed! Then pulled him into the house, slamming the door and nearly throwing him across the floor.

"What the hell are you doing here! How the hell did you find this place!" Harry yelled.

Dennis Creevey looked up at Harry; fear clearly etched in his face.


	8. St Mungos

Finally…oh, yeah. Make sure to read Black and Red, 'nother story I have begun to write. 

_XXX_

**Chapter Twelve**

St. Mungos 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry roared, grabbing Dennis by the front of his robes. The younger man continued to stare at Harry, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He tried speaking, but nothing came out.

"Harry. You're scaring the kid." Dudley said, amusement in his voice. He stood at the door, arms folded across his chest and smiling slightly.

Harry frowned and releases Dennis. Kid? Dennis was not a kid, but his slight frame and boyish looks made everyone assume he was younger than he really was. Nearly five years he'd been by Harry's side and he'd seen more horrors than most people twice his age. The fear on his face bothered Harry. Dennis was not one to be afraid, normally it was the opposite. Harry noticed he looked drawn, tired, and exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and a weariness that seemed to radiate from him. Something was wrong. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked again, calmly and softly.

"It-It's Colin, Harry.' Dennis began and his face nearly collapsed. Harry saw the pain, the hurt, and the utter desolation flash across his face. Dennis took a deep shuddering breath, leaning against the wall. "He's…He's bad, Harry. I mean really bad."

Harry sighed, leaning against the wall. Colin had been with him when attacking Asedemon. Harry felt a bad taste in his mouth as he thought of the name. Asedemon, the one who had killed three of his people and left another two injured. Only he and Dennis had come out of that fight unscathed. Now…

"What's wrong with him?." Harry asked.

"I-I went to see him this morning. The healers, they managed to fix his eyes. He can see.." Dennis shook his head, eyes clenched shut. "He's different. I don't know how. It's like he's mad." From the pain, I don't know.: Dennis said. He cleared his throat and looked away, blinking away tears.

"Mad?" Harry ran his hand through this hair, suddenly feeling the weight of his responsibility settling upon his shoulders.

"Yeah. He's shouting things, screaming at the Healers, cursing them, and he nearly attacked me when I got there." Dennis shook his head. "I tried owling you, but you weren't anywhere to be found. Colin finally told me to come here to get you."

"Get me?" Harry frowned. He had told Colin of the Dursley's home; that had been long ago. Colin had been one of the few people he could call a friend. One of the few people he trusted. It would not be for no small reason he would tell Dennis where to find him. Harry looked to Dudley. "I think I'm gong to have to take off." He said. It didn't seem that his visits would last their entirety. Fist with Hermione and now with Dudley.

Dudley nodded. "Joan's gonna be furious. Plus you won't see if it works or not."

"I'll come back as soon as I can. Before tonight." Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "Tell Joan I'm sorry for leaving. There's so toys in the bag, along with funds." Dudley began to speak but Harry held up his hand. "The toys are for Jelly and Vernon. Nothing much, just stuff I picked up a couple of months ago. The funds are for you and Joan, use it as you see fit." He grinned.

"Take care." Dudley said.

Harry grinned. "Don't worry, I'll be back in a bit."

XXX

"Tell me. What's been going on since I've left." Harry said as they strode down the halls of St. Mungos. Harry scanned the faces of the people he and Dennis passed, nodding to a few he knew. He had spent more than his fair share of time in the magical hospital. The looks he got back were a mixture of fear and wariness. That was the normal reaction when he walked these halls.

Dennis looked haunted. He had been quiet since they had arrived upon the grounds of the hospital, his face turning paler and his hands shaking. Harry had never seen him so distraught, it was disconcerting. Even when things had been at their worst Colin and Dennis had always been at their best. They had stood with him against many others, now…

Harry felt a wave of intense rage. He'd kill Asedemon when he found him. Three people dead because of him. Three people that were his friends, that had been with him through the tough and hard times.

"S-Sylvia's dead." Dennis stated bluntly.

Harry grunted as if hit by a physical blow.

"This morning. She got a fever, but-but she was too weak to fight it off. Her wounds." Dennis trailed off, taking another deep shuddering breath. "She died in her sleep."

Harry closed his eyes. At least she had died peacefully. So many of them hadn't had that option. Harry pushed away the pain and the loss. He would grieve, later. He would mourn them all when Asedemon was dead.

"I-I tried contacting you." Dennis whispered.

Harry nodded. While he had been visiting family and friends, those that had been closest to him in the last five years had been dying. There was no accusation in Dennis' voice, but Harry felt in within himself. He had been gone while he should have been looking in on his people. He should have been there with them. He should have done a lot of things, but Harry didn't regret the time he spent with Hermione or Dudley.

"Has anyone showed up yet?"

"I got an owl from Kathryn before I went to get you. She says Alonso came in from Spain this morning. So far he's the first of those that you've called. She sent off a report to Dumbledore and now she's getting things ready." Dennis said as they continued down the corridor. "I was here most of the night." He added.

Harry nodded. Kathryn was competent enough to do what was needed. Her duties tended to be more on the information gathering and processing than fighting, but she was good at either. If there was any question that needed answering, any creature that needed identifying, she was the person to ask. As with Colin she was one of the few people he trusted.

Harry sighed. Only three were left now. Only three out of seven. Harry frowned grimly. He had been right when he told Dumbledore that those around them tended to die while they continued on. Too many had died around him, too many friends, too many loved ones. Harry felt tired, weary to the bone. When would it all end?

"Did Colin say why he wanted to see me?" Harry asked, shaking his head.

"No. He just said to bring you. He was…adamant about it." Dennis said

As they rounded a corner there was a sudden commotion. Harry watched as several burly men in the robes of orderlies rushed into a room, from which he could hear screaming and yelling. Dennis paused wide eyed.

"That's Colin's room." He cried, running.

It was a chaotic scene. There were two orderlies trying to corner Colin, who was snarling and yelling at them. A healer lay unconscious on the floor and another orderly was clutching what looked to be a broken arm on the floor. The bed was overturned, another healer was pressed up against the wall, her eyes wide in terror.

"Colin!" Harry yelled as he entered the room. Colin's head swung toward Harry and Harry felt a moment of shock. He had known Colin for years, from the days he used to be in Hogwarts, then when he became an Auror, and then five years he'd been at his side. All those years he'd never seen the expression of pure rage and hatred upon his face. It was not him, it was as if something had taken hold of him.

Colin suddenly moved fast, the two orderlies were tossed to the floor with blows they didn't see coming.

"Colin!" Dennis stepped forward, but he was knocked down as Colin smashed into him. Dennis staggered back, colliding with the upturned bed, and crashing to the floor. Colin didn't even seem to be fazed by the collision.

Harry stood his ground, his hands empty and watching as Colin made his way toward him. He felt a sadness within him. This is where it all leads, doesn't it? When you have to turn your wand against friends and loved ones, when your survival is far greater than those around you.

With a sudden forward lunge, Harry grabbed Colin by the front of his hospital robes and then pulled him forward. Unable to stop, Colin was dragged forward by Harry, who used Colin's momentum to throw him toward the door. Colin smashed into the door frame, bouncing off of it and crashing into the hall with a scream of pain.

Harry was one his heels, hand going for his wand. The throw and the crash should have floored any normal person, but Colin was suddenly on his feet. His eyes still looking wild and his face contorted into a rictus of rage. It all happened quickly and Colin was lunging for Harry.

Harry's fist connected with Colin's face, there was a crunch of bone and a gush of blood, but for all the pain it cause Colin was still attacking. His fists, elbows, teeth, and knees smashing into flesh and hands trying to get around Harry's neck. With a roar Harry threw Colin off of him, the younger and smaller man skidding across the smooth white tile.

Harry got to his knees, gasping for breath. Colin snarled again and was on his feet, quicker than Harry expected. Harry grabbed for his wand.

"Stupefy!" A voice shouted. Colin staggered back, but he got back to his feet. "STUPFY!" The blast caught Colin in the chest and he fell limply to the floor. Harry sighed, getting to his feet and facing the person who had come to his rescue.

"Always have to be the center of attention, don't ya, Harry?" The man asked, there was a stern tone in his voice, but Harry could hear the humor also laced within the words.

"Thanks for the save, Neville." Harry said, grimacing with pain.


	9. Messages, Loved Ones, and Choices

**Chapter Nine**

Messages, Love Ones, and Choices 

"What are you doing here, Neville?" Harry asked, helping Dennis to his feet. The younger man looked a little worse for wear and weary beyond belief. Neville stood leaning against the door watching the healers and the orderlies. Colin was being dragged back into the room, this time three more burly orderlies had arrived, and they brought thick straps to tie him down.

"A call came into Headquarters that a patient needed to be handled. Of course who do you call for such little things? The Aurors of course." He grinned at Harry. "Good thing I had nothing better to do. Else this bastard would've ripped you limb from limb."

"That's my brother you're talking about." Dennis snarled taking a step toward Neville.

Neville stepped back, staring at Dennis. "Damn. Is that you Dennis?" He asked, taking a good look at the young man.

"Colin Creevey." Harry said, gesturing toward the unconscious form being strapped into the bed.

Neville flushed with embarrassment. "Damn. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Doesn't matter, Nev." Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm glad for your help, but as you can see…Everything's under control."

Neville glanced at Colin. 'What's going on? What happened to him?" He asked.

"That's what we're here to find out." Harry said.

Neville glanced to Dennis and then to Harry. "They're both apart of your … uh …. group. Aren't they?" He asked.

Harry smiled slightly. "Yeah. Colin and Dennis. They're apart of my group."

Neville blew out a breath, running his hand through his close-cropped hair. "Does this have anything to do with what went down in Dublin?"

Harry shrugged. "Can't prove anything." Harry responded, glancing toward Colin. The orderlies gave the straps one last tug and nodded to each other. The Healer moved in gingerly, clipboard in hand and wand out.

Neville glared at Harry. "Damn it, Harry. It's not like everyone doesn't know what you do. Your little mercenary missions, your work for Dumbledore and anyone who has enough gold." Dennis was growling with his fists clenched, but Harry gave him a flat stare that quieted him. Neville was a friend and those were hard to come by. Words could be forgiven easier than actions. "You're stepping on a lot of people's toes nowadays, Harry. You're also pissing off a lot of people in the Ministry, everyone from the Department of Magical Reversal to the Depart of Magical Creatures. Everyone's angry with what you've been doing. This is supposed to be Auror business, not some "free lance specialist" causing all kinds of hell, with no regard to property or bystanders."

"Afraid we're gonna put you out of business, Neville?" Dennis taunted.

Neville glared at Dennis. "Your brother is a friend. That's the only reason I'm not going to snap you in half, boy. My business is to protect and keep the peace, not chase after battles and foolish glory."

"Only a bloody fool chases after battles. I've seen enough bloodshed in my life and I'm not excited to see more. But I do what I have to do. To protect and to keep the peace." Harry replied.

Neville sighed, resignedly. "Do you even know the mess you caused in Dublin? How many man hours had to be put in to just clean it up and make sure the Muggles didn't take notice of nearly seven square blocks burned to ash and heaps of bodies lying about?"

Harry nodded. "The bodies I didn't cause. They were already dead when we got there." He said a bit defensively. "As for the rest, its need to know."

Neville folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. "Damn it. I hope you got who ever you were chasing after." He said after a moment.

Harry shook his head. "Unfortunately we had to make a quick exit, reason for the fire. Hopefully we caught a couple of those bastards in the blast, if not." Harry shrugged again. "We can always hunt them down and snuff them out."

Harry sighed, noticing the little look of fear and shock in Neville's eyes. He knew he should be used to it by now, but it always hurt when he saw it in his old friends. How much had he changed? Harry didn't know, it didn't seem much, but whenever he saw the look of fear, disgust, and shock in other people's eyes, it was always troubling. He had been a hero. No, he had been _called_ a Hero, but…Harry shook his head. Now was not the time to be thinking of such things.

The healer was finishing up whatever she was doing. She scribbled onto her clipboard and looked at the three standing at the door.

"What's wrong with him?" Dennis asked.

"We don't know. He's running a high fever, it might be delusions, hallucinations." She ventured. "We're going to have to run a few more tests."

"Healers. All they give you is quarter answers." Dennis sneered, brushing past her. The Healer glared at him and then at Harry and Neville.

"I'll be back with the results soon." She said, pushing past them.

Harry watched Colin. Why had he attacked him? Why had be acted the way he did? The questions rolled in Harry's mind. There had to be a connection somewhere. He had been fine two days ago when they went to Dublin. He'd been himself. Something had to have happened between then and now. The only thing Harry could think of was the battle.

"Hey. He's waking up." Dennis cried. Harry looked and saw that Colin was stirring. Neville pulled out his wand again and glanced to Harry, who did the same. "Colin. Hey, Colin. It's me Dennis. How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" Colin croaked looking about. "What happened?"

"You're at St. Mungos. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be healed, real soon." Dennis said. Colin blinked wearily, eyes trying to focus. He saw Harry and suddenly went rigid, eyes rolling back in his sockets. "Colin!"

His back suddenly arched and mouth opened wide, a stuttering scream erupted. Harry backed off, the noise stabbing into his head. Dennis staggered back, clutching his ears and yelling, Neville also imitated Dennis' actions.

"_POTTER!_" A voice erupted from Colin's mouth. Harry stared at Colin. That was not his voice. Harry felt the beginnings of fear, he knew what it was. He'd seen it used before and it boded no good for anyone, especially Colin. "_POTTER! I CAN SEE YOU. I CAN SMELL YOUR FEAR, YOUR ANGER_."

"Who is this." Harry demanded, stepping forward.

"_AH, HARRY…FORGOTTEN ME ALREADY?_" The laugh that came out was chilling, but Harry stood his ground. Feeling his anger turn into a ball of raging flame. Asedemon. How did he get control of Colin?

"You bastard! Release my brother!" Dennis shouted.

"What do you want, Asedemon? Ready to give up? Scared after we crashed your little party the other night?" Harry said.

"_OH, YES, HARRY. PUT ON A BRAVE FRONT, PRETEND TO BE STRONG FOR YOUR PATHETIC FRIENDS. I CAN SMELL THE FEAR ON YOU_. _YOU REEK OF COWARDICE."_

"Big words form a monster who can't even show his face, one who has to take his power from others. Face me and we'll see how long you last, you bastard." Harry snapped.

"_SOON ENOUGH, POTTER. SOON ENOUGH YOU WILL BE DESTROYED. BUT FOR NOW I'LL SETTLE FOR JUST KILLING THOSE YOU LOVE THE MOST. OUR LITTLE FRIEND HERE HAS BEEN VERY FORTHCOMING WITH INFORMATION." _The laughter filled the room again. _ "I SHALL SEND THEM MY WARMEST REGARDS_." Colin's back suddenly arched again and he began screaming. This time it didn't stop, he continued to spasm and cry out, Dennis at his side trying to hold him down. He let out one last scream and then lay limply. Dennis was sobbing and Harry saw a trail of blood trickling from Colin's eyes.

Harry stared, suddenly feeling his anger drain away and a blade of ice and fear suddenly cutting through him. Colin knew where Hermione lived. He knew where Dudley lived. The fear suddenly multiplied. Emily.

XXX

"Mornin'." Ron said cheerfully as Hermione entered the kitchen.

Hermione yawned, glancing at the wall mounted clock and smiling. "The morning's almost over." She remarked, making a beeline for the brewing coffee. She sighed remembering Harry's coffee the morning before; the coffee wasn't bad…it just wasn't Harry's. Almost violently she shook her head. Now was not the time to be thinking such thoughts.

Ron smiled at her as she levitated a plate of toast and jam toward the table, sitting down across from him. "Not feeling hungry?" He asked. Before him sat a large plate of eggs and sausage, along with a large cup of coffee.

Hermione shrugged. She concentrated upon the toast and jam. The toast tasted like sand and the jam was sickly sweet. She set both aside, sighing.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"Nothing." Hermione replied, taking a sip of her coffee. It had a bitter aftertaste, but she continued to drink it.

"There's something wrong." Ron said. "What is it?"

"There's nothing wrong." Hermione said, suddenly defensive.

"Oh, come one now. There's something wrong and you're trying to hide it." Ron said a small playful grin appearing on his face. "I've known you nearly seventeen years, Hermione. You can't fool me."

Hermione frowned. "There's nothing wrong. Now drop it."

Ron watched her for a moment, then his grin disappeared. He sighed, pushing aside his plate and folding his hands before him, his face becoming expressionless. "This is about Harry isn't it? Since he came here, you've been lost in thought. You've been distracted, you've been acting strange." Ron said, his words striking to the point.

"No. This has nothing to do with Harry."

"Harry bloody Potter." Ron spat the name like a curse. "The bastard left you and Emily without a damned word for five damned years and now he comes back and hopes everything's forgiven and you'll accept him back?"

Hermione tried to keep her face still, to keep the anger out of her voice. "You don't know why he's back. You don't know anything." She said.

Ron stared at her, his face flushed. "What do _you_ know then? Did he say he's coming back for good? Or did he just come by to toss your life around a bit, to make more problems for you and Emily than solve them." He asked. "Did he say he'd be here for Emily. Did he say he'd be here for _you_? Did he promise you everything you want, just to accept him back?"

Hermione was silent. She realized she didn't know why Harry had come back. She didn't know why he had come to her home; there must have been more to the excuse of 'just feeling like it' than he had let on. Could there? Did he even really care anymore? His stay hadn't been long. Just one night and the morning. Just enough time for her to patch up his wound, for him to meet Emily, and then he was gone after breakfast. Gone once again to do Dumbledore's business, once again leaving her for him.

"Merlin's Beard, Hermione." Ron whispered, shaking his head. He reached out and gripped her hands, his large rough hands enveloping her own. Hermione could feel the pulse of his heart in his hands, the steady beat and warmth of them. "You're better than this, Hermione. You're the smartest person I know, but every time Harry gets near you, you lose focus. All you can do is think of him and of what you can do for _him_." Ron closed his eyes for a moment. "That's what he does Hermione. That's what he's always done. He uses people and he leaves them. He's left a trail of broken bleeding people in his path. He's destroyed families and ripped apart people who loved one another for _his_ purposes. But he's never been there for anyone when they needed him. He's never stood by anyone when they were helpless, when they needed a friend." Ron's hands quivered, his pulse beating faster now. Frantic and angry. "He destroys, Hermione. He destroys everything he touches. Everyone jumps for him, everyone stands by him, and in the end everyone will die because of it." Hermione could see the tears forming in his eyes, but he blinked them away, his eyes turning hard and cold.

"Everyone thinks he's some kind of hero. Everyone thinks he's some great person because he killed Voldemort." Ron snatched his hands back, clenching them into white knuckled fists. "No one remembers the people who died so that he could kill him. No one remembers all those that gave their lives so that he could get his glorious chance to fight that bastard." Anger was heavy in his voice now, anger and hate. Hermione shivered at the hate that radiated from him. "No one remembers my parents and brothers who died for that useless ass. All they can talk about was how _he_ fought him. How _Harry_ defeated Voldemort. How _Harry_ saved everyone." He snarled.

Hermione closed her eyes. She remembered those days all too well. She remembered the pain, the terror, and the dead. The dead of so many people she knew and loved, all so that Harry could live. But she also knew the pain and the horror that Ron hadn't seen. She had seen Harry after the battle; she had cared for him, and stayed with him in the days when it seemed darkest. To say he did not care, that was too much.

"You don't know anything, Ron." She said, her voice as cold and as hard as his. "The war took many people we loved and many people we cared for, but it was not Harry's fault. They all went into battle knowing they could die and they all stood beside Harry because they trusted and believed in him. Your brothers and your parents. They loved him and they stood by him."

"They were fooled!" Ron shouted. "They fought for him because they believed that lying bastard. They followed him when they shouldn't have and they died because of his stupidity and his lust for glory! He used their love to kill them. All of them."

"I don't want to talk about this." Hermione said, suddenly feeling her head begin to ache. The old hate, the old argument. Who was responsible for all the dead? Harry reckless actions or Voldemort murderous madness? Ten years. Ten years she was caught in the middle of the bloody fight. The only thing was that the argument had been won by Ron long ago. Harry already conceded that it was his fault; he already took the blame, and carried about the pain of what had happened. Ron for all his great qualities, for all the love he had to give, could not let this go. He could not forgive and he would not let go of the hate, it was all he had.

Ron sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "How can you still love him? After all he's done to you?" He asked.

"I don't know." Hermione said, suddenly finding tears in her eyes. "You don't know what he's been though. You don't know the pain, the suffering, the agony that he feels day in and day out for those that have been lost because of him."

"Why do you think he quit being an Auror? Three years of training, three years of dedicating his life to what? More killing, more hunting of criminals? He hated the job, he hated every part of it. All he wanted was a home and a family. All he's ever wanted was peace."

"Peace? You call chasing after and killing other witches and wizards peace?" Ron asked, there was little anger in his voice, only a weary sadness.

"He…can't help it. I-it's what he is." Hermione replied, she palmed away the tears welling up in her eyes.

"All he brings is death." Ron said wearily.

"Yes." Hermione said, feeling a shudder of cold run through her.

"Mommy?" Emily suddenly pushed open the kitchen door, a stuffed bear clutched in one hand, and a look of fear upon her face.

Hermione brushed away the tears and smiled at her daughter. "What is it, dear?" She asked.

"There's a monster at my window." Emily said. She glanced back, clutching the stuffed lion in her hands tightly "It keeps scratching on the glass."

Hermione smiled faintly. Chasing away imaginary monsters she could handle. Anything was better than arguing with Ron. Hermione got to her feet and took her Emily's hand. "Now tell me about this monster?" One thing Hermione had done was make sure no creatures took root in the house. She didn't want her child scared half to death by a boggart. "We'll discuss this later." Hermione said to Ron.

Ron nodded slowly, his head still in his hands. "I'll still be here. Waiting." He whispered. Hermione wondered if she was meant to hear the last.

"Ron-"

There was a sudden roar and the house seemed to shuddered. Emily began screaming, Ron gripped the tabletop, and Hermione staggered toward the kitchen door, pulling Emily toward her in a tight embrace. She looked to the kitchen window, out toward the bright morning and saw something scurry by the window. A flash of redden eyes and glittering black teeth. Fast and deadly looking.

"What the hell was that?" Hermione whispered hoarsely.

Ron ran to the window, peering out. Then he cursed softly. "I'm going to kill you, Potter."

Then the attack began.

**XXX**

_Our little friend here has been very forthcoming with information_. The words continued to ring in Harry's mind as he paced back and forth in the cramped hospital room. Neville was shaking his head, muttering something. Dennis was sobbing over the death of his brother, and a pair of orderlies were just staring from the doorway, having caught the last portion of Asedemon's little speech. They looked pale and terrified.

Harry ignored it all. His mind was roiling with what had just been said, though a part of him harden and another name was added to the ever growing list of men and women who had died because of him. Colin Creevey, brother, friend, and the bravest person he'd ever known.

What was he after? Was he after Hermione? Was he after Dudley? Which one was in trouble. Which one would he attack?

"What are we going to do?" Neville asked, he stared at Harry, a little fear flashing in his eyes.

Hermione. She was strong. She was able. Though she may not be trained as an Auror, she had been in enough fights to hold her own. Harry nodded to himself. She could handle what came at her. Her home was also a fortress in itself. It would hold, unless it was attacked by a great power. But there was Emily. There was his daughter, his flesh and his blood that would be under attack. Could Hermione hold out against Asedemon? He knew she'd fight to last breath, but would that be enough?

There was also Dudley and Joan and Vernon and Angelica. Joan was not a fighter. She had claimed to have barely passed DADA in Hogwarts and dropped the class as soon as she could. Dudley for all his bravery and his strength was a Muggle. Then there were the children. Little Vernon and sweet Angelica. Where he had not seen his own daughter grow up, he had watched Angelica grow since she was nothing more than a screaming bundle of head and arms. They were helpless, they were defenseless. They would stand no chance against Asedemon.

Harry shouted in anger, smashing his fist into the wall of the room. There was a resounding crack and a flare of intense pain shot up his arm. Harry blinked away the white spots of pain and looked at Dennis. Could he be trusted? Would Asedemon take control of him too? Harry didn't know, but he had no choice. He had to move, already time was being wasted. Every precious second that went by, every breath was one in which Asedemon might be using to harm those he loved.

"Dennis!" The young man looked to Harry, eyes redden with pain and tears and fist clenched helplessly at his side. "Are you able?" There was no pause, no moment to think over the question. Dennis nodded, his tears drying up and his face becoming expressionless. _How well you train people_. Harry thought bitterly. He should mourn the lost of his brother, but there was no time.

"Where?" Dennis asked.

Harry hesitated for a moment, and then he shoved down his feelings, his emotions, anything that would cloud his mind. "Go to Hermione's." He said. With each word he spoke he felt like retracting it, doubt and second thoughts flooded his mind, but again he shoved it down. "Get her and the kid. Take them to the House. Don't let them out of your sight. If anyone tries stopping you, kill them." Dennis nodded. Harry grabbed a vase off the small nightstand beside Colin's bed. He muttered a spell and created the portkey. "This'll take you there."

"What about me?" Neville asked.

Harry turned to him. 'This is none of your problem, Neville." He said, his voice cold.

"The hell it is. Hermione's my friend too." Neville said, he had his wand out and looked for all intents and purposes ready to fight Harry on the point. "Plus I'm a damned Auror, if you forgot. If someone's in trouble, it's my duty to help."

Harry closed his eyes. Two were better than one. Neville was an Auror; if Asedemon did attack Hermione's then he'd be of help. Harry looked at Neville. The determined set of his face, the tiny glint of fear in his eyes. He had children. He had a family. He could get hurt. He didn't belong here. This was not his fight. _Forgive me, Ginny_. "Go with Dennis." He said.

"Where are you going?" Neville asked.

"Protect them at all costs." Harry said to Dennis, tossing him the portkey. The younger man nodded, grabbing hold of Neville's sleeve. The two vanished from sight with a surprise yelp from Neville. Harry glanced at Colin, the expression of pain and terror etched into his features, and then at the two orderlies, who were still staring. Then he vanished in a loud crack.

XXX

It was quiet and it was peaceful. Two Muggles started to scream as Harry appeared out of thin air, without though Harry stunned them. The two fell bonelessly to the ground, the dog they had been walking began yapping at Harry, but he ignored it. He made his way across the damp lawns and kicked open the door to the house, striding down the short hall with his wand out. A panic and fear was building in him. He entered the kitchen, and a sudden relief filled him.

"Back so soon, Harry?" Dudley asked from the kitchen table. He and Joan were sitting at the table, Joan with a cup of coffee and two glowing vials upon the table before her. Harry scanned the room. There was no sign of attack or anything suggesting that Asedemon had it in for them.

"What's going on?" Joan asked nervously. She was looking at Harry's face, seeing the frantically moving eyes, his ready to fight stance, and wand that was clenched in a white knuckled grip.

"You remember the Plan?" Harry asked. Dudley stared at him bug eyed and nodded. "The shit's hit the fan, Dud. Pack your stuff and let's get out of here."

'Asedemon?" Joan asked, already getting to her feet. She shoved the two vials into her pocket and raced for the stairs, Dudley following. He made it to the stairs, instead of following her up, he opened the cupboard under the stairs and began pulling out a few small suit cases.

"How?" Dudley asked.

"He managed to possess a friend of mine. Tore the information about your home and Hermione's from him, then killed him. Now he's coming, here or Hermione's." Harry said simply. He continued to look at the front door. If Asedemon was going to attack, when? Unless he was only attacking Hermione's…

Harry shoved the thought away. Dudley needed his help more. Once they were settled away, then he could head for Hermione's. This would only take a few minutes. Get them to the House and out of harm's way.

"Angelica." Dudley said, cursing to himself.

"She's still at the party?" Harry asked. Dudley nodded. "I'll go there. Joan knows the way, right?" Dudley nodded again. "You three head out. Kathryn's at the House, so you shouldn't be troubled. I'm sorry about this, Dudley."

"Be care-" Dudley began.

There was a loud screeching roar and the front door suddenly exploded outward in a shower of splintered wood and a dark figure strode into the house.


	10. Into the Fight

**Chapter Ten**

**Into the Fight**

It was short, it was hunched, and it made a strange gurgling hissing sound. It's blacken claws scraped upon the hardwood floor of the hall, digging deep furrows upon it, long lines of saliva trailed from the wide mouth filled with rows of thick serrated teeth, and the stench of death wafted from it. The monster crouched at the entrance and it's mouth opened, letting out an ear splitting roar.

Harry picked himself off the floor where he had been thrown when the door exploded inward; he hastily brushed off a few splinters of wood off his coat and watched the creature. It's redden eyes locked upon Harry's and it roared again, lurching forward. Harry gripped his wand in his hand and waited, the monster made it a step forward and suddenly it began screaming.

It's body convulsed, thick cords of muscle beneath sickly gray skin bunching and shuddering. It flopped for a moment in the hall and suddenly erupted into blue flames. Harry nodded to himself and glanced to Dudley who was staring wide eyed at the charred and crackling monster. The blue flames vanished and the heavy smell of charred flesh hung in the air.

'W-what the hell was that?" Dudley stammered.

"That." Harry walked to the charred creature, nudging it with his boot. "That was a Feeder."

"A what?"

"Asedemon's cannon fodder. Stupid, strong, and deadly in close quarters. They were once Muggles, but Asedemon changed them somehow. Made them into monsters. Now they just kill, gather Asedemon's victims, and feast upon what's left afterward." Harry looked about, glancing at the walls and the ceiling. "The defenses are up." He said.

Dudley looked at the charred Feeder. "Bloody hell, Harry. You didn't tell me that kind of magic was built into our home." He shook his head and looked down the hall and out the shattered door. Upon the once emerald lawn he could see more creatures gathering, their roars and snarls clearly audible in the quiet street. "There's a lot more of those things. I think we should run, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "The house defensive spells are up. We can't portkey, we can't apparate, and we can't floo out of here." He closed his eyes. Hopefully Dennis would be able to get Hermione and Emily out of there. Hopefully this was the main attack…

Dudley stared at Harry. "You designed the defenses. Can't you un-design them?"

"You an bet those bastards have their own defensive spells over this house. We can't leave and the spell also won't let them come into the house. You saw the Feeder. They try coming in and they fry." He said.

Dudley let out a breath. "So we just sit tight? What about Angelica? Will she be all right?" There was an edge of hysteria in his voice now. He paced before the stairs, fists clenched and eyes continually glancing down the hall.

Harry gripped his wand until his knuckles cracked. Suddenly Joan appeared at the head of the stairs. "What's going on? I can't use my wand." She cried.

Dudley glanced at Harry again. "The defenses?" He asked, Harry nodded. Dudley sighed.

"What? No magic?" Joan asked horrified. She looked down at the wand in her hands and gave it a swish. Nothing happened and she stared back at Harry, fear clearly evident upon her face.

Harry opened his coat and dug within an inside pocket. From within he pulled out a long gleaming sword.

"What the hell are you going to do with that?" Dudley asked.

Harry swung the weapon experimentally, getting the feel of it. "Just in case." He replied.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Joan demanded. "Jelly's still out there. She's not protected by the house."

Dudley went to the cupboard under the stairs and dug around for a moment, he grunted with satisfaction and pulled out a heavy dark weapon. Harry raised an eyebrow at the shotgun. He hadn't known Dudley to be armed. Joan just glared at him.

"I told you to get rid of that thing." She said.

Dudley snorted, pulling out a box of ammunition and began loading. "Don't be daft, girl. You're wand's useless and those bastards might just storm the place. This house was never designed to be defended, you see those damn big windows in the living room? To hell with the burning magic of the house, if they want us dead enough they'll just throw everything at us and kill us. Didn't you see that damn monster, it doesn't need magic to rip us to shreds."

Harry nodded, he looked down the hall and toward the gathering monsters. There seemed to be more or them, all pacing back and forth, their triangular heads the color of yellowed ivory gleaming faintly in the morning sun.

"There's a reason swords aren't used anymore." Dudley was saying. Harry glanced at him and grinned.

"But this sword's magical. It can cut through most anything." Harry demonstrated by chopping at the charred Feeder. The blade effortlessly cut through the monster. Dudley nodded, unimpressed.

"Oh, sweet Merlin! They're coming!" Joan cried. Harry turned to the door and saw the Feeders suddenly begin charging for the house. He stepped back and raised his sword. The hall was narrow and they'd have to come by ones or twos, he could handle that.

The living room window suddenly exploded and several feeders crashed through, smashing into furniture and falling to the floor in a shower of glass.

**_Boom!_**

Harry winced as Dudley began shooting. He watched a Feeder get knocked back by a blast, a shower of torn flesh and broken bones and the Feeder lay motionless upon the floor. Joan grabbed a fireplace poker and stood behind Dudley, her normally happy and peaceful face contorted with rage and anger.

The first Feeder plunged into the hall, wide mouth opened and snarling. Harry snapped forward slicing diagonally and the Feeder collapsed to the floor, head parted in two. The next Feeder leaped over the two dead in the hall, moving incredibly fast and swiping downward. Harry ducked and felt a searing flash of pain across his left shoulder as the Feeder leaped over him and crashed into the stairs.

Harry pivoted on his heel and slashed vertically with his sword, parting flesh, muscle, and bone. The Feeder screamed, and then Harry ended it with a cut to the monster's throat. Harry turned to face the door again, the next Feeder postured upon the bodies of the two dead and let out a challenging snarl to Harry.

Harry snapped forward, his blade extended, the point piercing through the Feeder's open mouth and punching out through the back. With a fierce wrench Harry yanked the blade upward, rewarded a splash of wetness upon his face and a sickly crunching sucking sound as he pulled the blade free. The Feeder fell bonelessly upon the previous two. The one behind it was screaming and suddenly burst into flames.

Harry let out a bark of laughter. Thankfully the defenses were still up. Harry took a quick glance toward the living room. Dudley was standing in the door way, gun pointed at the window and firing away. Joan stood at his back, the fire poker clenched in her small hands.

"How are we doing?" Harry yelled.

"Peachy! Just Peachy!" Dudley yelled back, firing more shots.

"Watch out!" Joan screamed at Harry.

Harry staggered back as a Feeder fell upon him, his sword clattering to the floor. Joan was there a moment later, her fire poker smashing into the beast. Harry punched his fist into the Feeder's body, grunting as he hit hard flesh. The Feeder suddenly let out a gurgling scream and Harry felt fire in his shoulder as the Feeder fell limply upon him. He grunted and pushed it off, wiping something thick and black off his face an chest. He got to his feet with Joan's help, wiping his hands upon his coat.

"Thanks." Harry muttered, glancing back at the Feeder. The fire poker was jammed into the neck, thick black blood pooling upon the floor. Harry used his sleeve to clean more off of it from his face. "Thanks."

"That'll be hell to clean out of the carpets." Joan said, yanking the poker out.

Harry grunted and picked up his sword up off the floor and looked down the hall. There were no more Feeders, he glanced to Dudley and saw him hastily loading his gun. "Anymore?" He asked.

Dudley shook his head. 'Last one just burst into flames." He responded.

"Is it over?" Joan asked.

"I don't know." Harry looked about. There was a strange silence. He looked toward the lawn but saw nothing. Suddenly there was a wail.

Joan's head snapped toward the stairs. "Vernon." She cried and ran up the stairs.

Dudley began following her, but Harry stopped him. "They might be up there." Dudley cried.

Harry shook his head. "They can't. It's more protected up there than it is down here." He responded.

Dudley glanced at the bodies of the Feeders. "This was protected?"

"I didn't think that-" Harry began.

The house suddenly shuddered again. Dudley glanced to Harry. "That's bad right?"

"Yeah." Harry walked to the wall, but then stopped as another dark figure walked into house. The sunlight gleamed off its black armor and the heavy blade gripped in metal covered hand. Twin red eyes stared unblinkingly from behind a skull shaped helmet. It stood there for a moment, it's rasping labored breathing the only thing Harry could hear.

"Why isn't it bursting into flames." Dudley asked, glancing at Harry.

"Bloody hell." Harry cursed and then the armored figure attacked.

XXX

There was a terrible thundering sound, and then the house began to shake. Emily began to cry from the noise and from the fact that Hermione was clutching her tightly to her chest. It didn't help that Crookshanks was hissing violently or that Ron was trying to drag all three out of the kitchen.

The house shook again, a deep rumble that sent pictures falling off the wall and glass shattering upon the wooden floor. Hermione stumbled to her knees, bringing down Emily. Crookshanks ran off screeching, a ball of ginger and hair. Ron grabbed hold of Hermione's arm and tried dragging the two of them across the floor.

A roaring noise began outside, slowly rising to a high screech that had Hermione clutching her hands around Emily's ears and cringing with pain. Suddenly there was a loud **_Woosh_** and the air suddenly felt very thick. It felt as if a great pressure were making it harder and harder to breathe, as if the air itself was growing thicker. Then as quickly as the feeling came it was gone and Hermione nearly collapsed to the floor gasping with relief.

"What was that?" Ron asked, weakly getting to his feet.

Hermione quickly scanned Emily, noticing nothing injured and hurt upon her daughter. Emily stared up at her wide eyed, she had stopped crying and now just looked terribly frightened.

'The house defenses." Hermione said, carefully getting Emily to her feet. She swayed a moment, but clung tightly to Hermione's leg, still silent.

"We need to get out of here." Ron declared, pulling out his wand. "We need to get somewhere safe; somewhere we can get hold of the Aurors."

Hermione shook her head, glancing toward the front door. It looked so small and fragile, but she knew there was power and magic that made it stronger than any metal in the world. "We don't know how many creatures are out there. We don't know who's attacking us." Hermione said, pulling Emily so that she wrapped her arms around her neck and legs around her hips.

"We can't just stay in here." Ron exclaimed.

"There are wards and charms that are protecting this house. They're unbreakable. Hermione sighed, stroking Emily's hair. She felt her shuddering against her, fear coursing through her. "We stay here."

Ron paced across the rug in the living room, casting glances at the doors and windows. Morning light streamed in from them and low animal sounds were coming from beyond them. Hermione pushed down the irrational fear that the doors would be smashed open and the windows shattered. She knew what kinds of protective spells were layered around the house, but logic and knowledge held nothing against fear.

"C'mon, Emily." Hermione said carrying the small girl to her room. Emily clung tightly and began whimpering. "Shh. Don't cry. Just stay in here and we'll deal with this. Crookshanks will protect you." Hermione set her down in the middle of her room and Crookshanks, still expanded from moments before, yet moving with the grace of aging royalty. He immediately began purring and nudging Emily with his head, enticing Emily to pet him. The ploy worked as Emily sat down and began hugging Crookshanks, who began purring for all he was worth.

Hermione backed out of the room and headed back to the living room, where Ron was peering out of the window. There hadn't been any shakings or loud noises for a while, it seemed as if the creatures were planning out their next attack or waiting for reinforcements.

"I think they're planning their next move, either that or waiting for reinforcements." Ron said, echoing Hermione's thoughts. Ron clenched his wand and glanced back toward Hermione.

"Put your wand away." Hermione said, heading toward a closet. She pulled out a key and shoved it into a heavy lock.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"It won't work. There's a charm around the house. It won't let any magic be used inside the house." Hermione explained and began pulling out a large chest. "Any magic that's not mine."

Ron frowned but he shoved his wand into his robes and then helped Hermione pull out the large chest from the closet.

"What's this?" He asked.

"Weapons." Hermione said, using another key to open the chest. It gave a loud click and the top popped open, revealing a large variety of sharp pointed weapons.

"What are you doing with this stuff?" Ron asked, there was a little awe in his voice.

Hermione hesitated for a moment. "They were Harry's." She said. Ron's face immediately fell into a frown and his knuckles cracked as they clenched into fists. "When he left, he left behind a lot of _items_. I didn't know what to do with them, since most of them are kind of the pointy dangerous kind." Hermione reached down and pulled out a wicked looking single headed axe. "Most of these are magical weapons. They'd be dangerous if they fell into the wrong hands."

Ron shook his head, gingerly pulling the axe out of Hermione's hand. "You know how many statues and laws you're breaking just having a magical weapon?"

Hermione laughed weakly. "I guess it's good that I know several Aurors." She said.

Ron hefted the axe and frowned. He reached out and pulled out a thick bladed curved sword. There was a small tag at the bottom and he read it out loud. "Hamilicar's Deathbringer. Can cut through almost anything, when used upon humans causes instant death, indestructible." Ron gingerly set the sword back into the chest. "Merlin's Beard, Hermione. Most of this stuff is illegal as hell." Ron continued to heft the axe. "I'll take this one. This at least will only cut through any living flesh." He shook his head.

Hermione pulled out a large oval shield, which had a rearing lion upon the front. "Here take this too. Harry said it could repel any magic, including a Killing Curse." She quickly closed the chest and then shoved it back into the closet. "Well. Now we'll be ready if they somehow manage to take out the charms." Hermione sighed and leaned against the wall.

Ron quickly divested himself of his weapons and wrapped his arms around Hermione. "It'll be okay." He said.

Hermione let out a snort. "There's a reason I never went to be an Auror, even though it seemed to be all the rage when we were graduating. I don't like the fighting. With words, of course, but not the physical kind." Hermione shook her head.

"It's all Harry's fault." Ron said.

Hermione sighed, pulling away from Ron. "I think we'd best see what's going on outside. They're been a little quiet." Hermione said, heading for the window. Ron followed a moment later carrying axe and shield.

"I feel stupid." He muttered after a while.

"It looks like they're just sitting around." Hermione said.

"Waiting for reinforcements?" Ron set the weapons down upon Hermione's couch and looked out the window.

"Who are they?" Hermione asked, gesturing toward two figures standing in the distance. Hermione could only make out the bright crimson and the obvious female form of one and the billowing black cloak of the other. Both stood well behind the mass of hunched black toothed creatures that prowled the lawn. They stood eerily still, their robes and cloaks fluttering in a soft breeze.

"I'm guessing the bad guys." Ron said, blowing out a breath. "What are they waiting for?"

"Harry." Hermione whispered.

Ron glanced at her. He didn't say anything, but Hermione could see the I told you so look barely restrained. "Damn. They're going to ambush him when he gets here." Ron said after a moment.

"We have to do something." Hermione said.

"Have you seen how many creatures there are out there?" Ron used his axe to point toward the window. "Scores of them."

"We need to do something." Hermione said.

"How do you even know if he'll be coming?" Ron demanded.

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "He'll come." She said finally and hoped that it were true. Why did she expect him to come to her rescue? For some illogical reason she assumed he would know when she was in danger and come to her rescue. He'd done that when Voldemort had captured her. He'd come then and he'd come now.

"It looks like they've gotten tired of waiting." Ron said.

Suddenly the house shook again and the monsters began throwing themselves against the barricades around the house.

Hermione gripped her wand tightly, glancing back toward Emily's room. He would come. If not for her, then for his daughter.

There was a loud screaming and the crashing of glass. Hermione looked up to see a monster clawing it's way into the living room. The charms had been broken.

"Bloody hell." Hermione cursed and the monster launched itself at her.

**XXX**

Nausea and disorientation. That's what he always felt when he used a portkey. It was worst than apparating. At least there you knew where you were going, you focused on where you were going. Portkeying was a blind jump into the unknown, a physical yanking of the body from one location to another.

Neville Longbottom clamped down on his rising gorge and tried to shake away the feeling as if the world was flip flopping before him. He knew it would go away, but there were times when it really hit him. Instead he concentrated upon his surroundings.

They were standing in a small opening within a thick wood. The stands of oak, and yew rose up around them, the smell of freshly crushed grass, thyme, and rosemary filled the air, the sounds of birds chirping, branches creaking, and grass swaying sounded around them. The air was cool and the sun was still hidden toward the east behind the tall stand of trees.

"Where are we?" Neville asked.

"Don't know." Dennis replied roughly. "Be quiet and follow." Without looking back Dennis began heading into the trees.

"Where-" Neville began, but Dennis held up a hand. After a moment he continued on, again not looking to see if Neville was following.

They continued in silence for a long moment. Neville glanced around. The woods didn't seem familiar, but then again it had been a long time since he'd spent an enjoyable day trekking through woods. He frowned at the thought. He was not on a enjoyable trek, there was something going on. Something that involved a powerful enemy, several dead people, and an old friend, who just happened to be in trouble.

It did sound like something Harry would be involved in. Sadly, it was like old times. Someone in trouble, a big baddie after them, and lots of fighting. Neville clenched his wand. He never liked the old times. Too much fighting, too much dying, too much terror and horrors.

Neville nearly collided with Dennis. He looked around the younger man and saw that they had come to a clearing. A large cottage sat in the center of the clearing, made of heavy stone and wood. There was a small garden and several decorative plants surrounding the house, along with a large oak tree with a swing and a small pond. It looked peaceful and lovely, if not for the scores of monsters snarling upon the short grass the surrounded the cottage.

"I guess we're here." Neville muttered.

Dennis nodded silently. His eyes were cold and his face was hard. It was as if the pain of losing his only brother had been buried behind a wall of steel. Neville worried that he might be plotting revenge.

In Neville's experience, people looking for revenge tended to be the most dangerous people to fight alongside. They didn't care if they died or if you died, only that they got their revenge. He'd already had enough of that when fighting alongside Harry and Ron. Looking at Dennis, he worried it was about to happen again.

"You see that big guy in the black?" Dennis suddenly asked.

Neville squinted, but spotted the figure in billowing black robes, standing out starkly on the emerald grass. Beside him stood a woman dressed in bright crimson, Neville could only compare the color to freshly spilled blood.

"He's Asedemon." Dennis said. "The woman's Lyndred. She goes by the title the Blood Queen."

"What's Asedemon's title?" Neville asked.

"The Death Lord."

Neville shook his head. Not much thought put into the titles they gave themselves. The names themselves were also probably self-given, Dark Lords and Witches tended to make up new names to fit their new personas. Names to strike fear and terror in their victims.

"What are they waiting for?" Neville asked, watching as the monster just milled about.

"Harry." Dennis replied. "But he's not coming until the Dursleys are safe."

Neville nodded. "It looks like it's up to us to do something." He regretted the words once they were out.

"We fight. We do as Harry said. Get Hermione and the girl and head back to the House." Neville noticed Dennis' eyes hadn't left where Asedemon was standing. "They're attacking."

Neville watched as the monsters began rushing the house. Showers of colors and sparks flew as they hit spells, charms, and wards the were protecting the cottage. Neville wondered how long it would last under such relentless attack.

"Come on." Dennis cried, grabbing Neville's sleeve and apparating.

"Bloody hell!" Neville cried as the woods vanished away.

XXX

"Is that All!" Ron screamed as he smashed the axe into the withering form of a monster. It gave a gurgling sound and lay still, it's claws still twitching minutely upon the hardwood floor.

Hermione looked up, brushing her hair out of her line of vision and saw Ron. His face was flushed, his eyes wild, and his red hair surrounded him like a halo of fire. The lion shield covered his left arm and the bloodied axe was being waved in his right. He had a half mad snarl pasted to his face and she could almost see him shivering with barely held back aggression.

Definitely the barbarian conqueror. Hermione thought, nudging the fried body of a monster. The wand may have been Ron's weapon of choice, but he seemed to fare very well with the axe, striking fiercely and efficiently, like a dance of death. She wondered where he learned to use the weapon.

Ginny had once said that Ron had gotten a little obsessed with his training. He had become even worst than Harry had at the height of the War. Training day and night to become better and stronger. Who he was training to fight was a mystery; Harry had been training to fight Voldemort, but Ron? Hermione didn't want to ask, but she could only think of one person who Ron would be training to fight. Harry.

She watched him as he wiped the dark blood of the monster upon his robes, his eyes scanning the broken window for anymore monsters. She felt a shiver of fear. What was with her and choosing the dangerous men?

"Bloody cowards!" Ron spat. "They're scared."

Hermione was about to rebuff him, but something caught her ear. The sounds of fighting. Someone fighting using magic…

Harry!

Hermione rushed back into the kitchen, pulling open the blinds that covered the kitchen window. Outside she could see two figures battling the monsters. Her heart was beating rapidly and she looked at the faces. Disappointment.

"What the hell are Neville and Dennis Creevey doing here?" Ron asked.

"It looks like help's just arrived." Hermione said.

They both watched as the monster began to pour around them, covering them from all sides. They'd be killed if they weren't helped. Ron threw open the kitchen door and began running to help.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione snarled, following him.


	11. Failure

**Chapter Eleven**

**Failure**

Technologically speaking, the Wizarding World was a backwards place. The thought had occurred to Dudley Dursley many times, mostly when he had taken the trip to Diagon Alley with Joan in search for some herb or spice that supposedly held magical properties. He had seen the crowded alley, the vendors hawking their wares on cobbled streets, animals screeching in cages, the heady smell of packed bodies and cooking in the air.

Though he could understand why they preferred to stay so backward, especially when magic could do so many things that machines did. But it was not just magic that made them so different than Muggles, it was the culture.

It was a culture that, Dudley realized, had almost stopped since the days when knights gaily waved their swords around, with a few social changes since then. To Dudley it was like walking back into a different time or into some mock medieval dress up.

It was a society that had never undergone the Industrial revolution, one that had never given up the sword and the armor for gunpowder and shot. Their weapons depended upon the imagination of the user and what could be imbued into weapons that had become obsolete hundreds of years ago. Again Dudley could understand that. He'd seen some of the magical devices that could stop a bullet, others that could bend the laws of physics around them, and others that made even the worst Muggle weapon seem like a toy.

Such was the though that ran through Dudley's head as he saw the charging figure in a heavy black suit of metal, a raised sword in one hand and a small buckler in the other. He knew by looking at the armor and the sword that they were magical. That their strength depended upon the spells and charms that ran through the hammered steel.

The thing was that magic didn't work any longer in the house.

Magic may have been able to warp the laws of physics, but where magic no longer existed, a thin sheet of harden steel was no match for several thousand pounds of pressure in an area no bigger than a thumbprint. Even with magic, such forces would be hard to absorb.

The first black knight went down, then the second behind it, and then the third and the forth. Dudley could feel the fury and the heat in his hands; his ears rang from the thunderous roar.

He screamed back defiantly. How dare they attack his house! How dare they try to hurt his family! How dare they come here! Like wheat beneath a scythe they fell, one by one. A berm of bodies against the oncoming tide.

There is a saying: that even a knight in full armor armed with a sword can be brought down by many men armed with wooden spears. Dudley thought it ironic since he was the one being attacked by men dressed like knights out of a fairy tale. But the saying was true, as Dudley was the focus of the renewed attack. The weapon in his hands caused the most threat and it was the one that was silenced first.

As pain flared through his body, Dudley felt an immense sense of failure. He had failed his family, he had lost the battle, again. The pain of the descending blades was nothing compared to the thought of not being able to protect his family. He had already lost one to his weakness. He hadn't been able to save them either.

Failure and an impenetrable darkness.

"Harry, protect my family."

XXX

The Second War left a huge footprint of destruction across the Wizarding World. Especially during the final year of battle as Voldemort lead a campaign of terror to destroy the will of the people to fight back and to weaken the power of his opponents. On a scale that dwarfed his earlier work nearly twenty years before, there was almost no Wizarding family that hadn't been touched by his bloodied hand.

Joan Loring had been apart of one of those Wizarding families. When she was five she had run into a boggart that had revealed her greatest fear. Only twelve years later she had returned home to find that horror come to life as Death Eaters attacked her family and destroyed everyone and everything she had loved.

Her family had no political connections, nor had they sided with any one group. They were a family of scholars who lived more in the past than in the present. Who knew all about the reigns of past kings and wizards than what had been occurring the last few years. But terror is a weapon that the Dark Lord continuously honed and her family had been a whet stone.

A war that she had never cared for, barely even thought about, had descended upon her and left a lake of blood in it's wake. She was not a fighter, she was not particularly good at using offensive or defensive magic, but she wanted her revenge. She wanted justice for what had been done to her. That had led her to Harry Potter and his fight against the Dark Lord.

When Harry's near dead and bloodied cousin had been brought in, she had immediately helped in caring for him. Over time she had found a connection in the young man who had, like her, lost all that he loved and cared for. Another victim of Voldemort's need to have the world fear him.

Together they had created a family, but the thought of possible attack was not far from their mind. They memories of the past had scarred them and they tried to prepare for such an eventuality, but as time went by and no attacks came they had begun to think they were safe. Especially when the strongest wizard in the world had an eye out for their safety. They had peace in their lives and for their children.

How could this be happening again? The thought ran though Joan's mind as she heard the heavy thumping up the stairs. She had created a new life. A life that was supposed to be safe. The Dark Lord was dead and the world was supposed to be at peace.

How could this be happening again?

Was this how her mother had felt as the Death Eaters had come for her and her youngest? Did she feel the same indescribable terror and failure she felt now? Did she wish she were stronger and braver, more able to fight off the oncoming creatures?

Joan let out a scream that held more frustration and despair than fear. She tried to claw against the metal gauntleted hands; she tried to find a weakness and then tripled her efforts as her child was torn from her grasp.

As blades covered in the blood of the man she loved descended. Joan could only cry in failure. She hadn't been able to save her family, again. She hadn't been strong enough, she hadn't been brave enough.

Failure and then an abyss of black.

"Harry, save my children."

XXX

Thought no longer applied. It was something that had taken him a long time to understand. After a life of struggling to gain control, to be the one in charge of his own destiny, it was so hard to just let go. To give into instinct and let everything fade away into a blur of action and reaction, where thought and decisions had no sway.

The journey to that point was not a smooth one. He had been taught by one of the best, but he had resented it. He had rebelled against the teachings, for the simple reason of not liking the person who taught him. It was a hate shared by both parties, neither had wanted to be there and after several vengeful spats and a physical confrontation they had parted ways. That was until it became evident to Harry that he needed the others help more than they needed him. It had been a moment of humility that had stayed with him for years afterward.

That man had been Professor Snape. He had taught him more about how to fight, how to become the person who would defeat one of the most terrifying wizards of all time. His teachings had saved Harry's life many times. They were the foundation upon which all he had learned was built upon. Powerful teachings from a great man, who had been one of the many lost in the final battle.

No thought. No second guessing. Only instinct and training.

The blade moved with a glittering speed that was too fast for an observer to follow unless they knew what to look for. The clashing sounds of blades connecting. steel upon steel, and the occasional duller sounds of a blade making contact with armor.

Harry moved in a dance of death, blade strike out, quick and fast. It's deadly sharp tip found soft spots in greaves, joints, the narrow slits in the bullet shaped helmets of the black armored knights.

A heavy blade swung, Harry parried with a skirling _tiiing_ of steel upon steel. The other tried shifting from attack to defense, but Harry was quicker, his blade already moving and finding a soft spot where leg greaves connected with a knee joint. There was a hard resistance and then a soft feeling as blade parted flesh. The armored figure cried out in pain, already dropping to his knee, his blade falling from his hands.

Harry's blade moved again, with precision it entered the narrow slit in the helmet, sinking in with almost no resistance and exiting almost as fast as it entered. The heavy body of the knight fell to the floor and all was silence.

Harry stood there, his chest pumping like bellows, his breathing controlled and steady. Why wasn't' there any noise? Where's Dudley?

Fear suddenly seized him and he made his way out of the wrecked kitchen. The press of knights had forced him back, away from Dudley. How much time had gone by since then?

His fears were confirmed as he looked upon the body of his cousin. A hardness formed within him, like a clenching of a fist around his heart. His eyes were still opened, staring sightlessly up the stairs, a look of utter defeat still upon his face. Harry staggered up the stairs.

Joan and Vernon. Where were they? Why wasn't he hearing them?

"Joan!" He croaked and staggered into Vernon's room.

There was so much blood. It was all he could think as he slumped to his knees. So much blood and she was such a small woman. Intense pain flashed through him, burning hard and fast and leaving behind nothing. Harry stared at her sightless eyes and he could only feel an immense failure.

He had sworn to protect them. He had given his word. He had told them they would never need to fear. He hadn't been strong enough. He'd been too arrogant, too cocky at his own strength. He had failed, again. He had lost all that he loved.

"I'm so sorry."

Failure and a burning sense of rage.


	12. Promises, Blood, and Iron

**Chapter Twelve**

**Promises, Blood. and Iron**

The day they had gotten married had been a beautiful day. It was as if the world knew that this was a special day, that nothing could go wrong, and all had to be perfect. And it was. The sun shone brightly, but not hot. There was a soft breeze that playing among the grasses and the wind chimes. There had been good food and good company. Everyone coming together for that special day.

Harry had been uncomfortable as he could possibly get without going mad. It was not his wedding yet he was the one sweating profusely and nervous beyond all reason. Meanwhile Dudley was sitting relaxed in a chair, feet kicked up on a small stool, eyes closed, and just waiting until it was time to take there places. There was not one doubt in Dudley's mind about his marriage.

"Calm down, Harry." Dudley said, opening an eye to watch his cousin pacing nervously back and forth. 'You're not the one being condemned to one woman for the rest of your life." He grinned over his shoulder.

"Oh, Harry's got sympathy nerves. Being this close to an actual wedding is definitely too close for comfort. Your cousin has commitment issues, if you didn't know." Hermione said. She was sitting not far from Dudley, back straight and not a wrinkle upon the pale yellow dress she wore. Her brown eyes connected briefly with Harry's as he shot her a pained look. She smiled, showing him that she had been kidding. But he knew she hadn't been. How many times had they talked about? How many times had they tried to talk about their future, only to have it go nowhere?

"It's just I've never given away anyone before." Harry said. He sat down upon a chair, elbows upon knees, and blowing out a breath.

"Watch it. You'll muss up your suit." Hermione warned.

"I'm surprised I haven't sweated through this thing yet." Harry remarked, picking at the black tux. Muggle clothing for a Muggle wedding. With the passing of her family, Joan didn't have a strong hold upon the Wizarding World. She had gladly dived into the Muggle world and quickly picked up it's customs. Though she was working for the Ministry, her life was in the Muggle world.

"Who else but the Man who defeated the Dark Lord to give away the most beautiful bride in the world?" Dudley asked, sitting up. He glanced at his watch and nodded to himself. "Show's about to start, kids. I think it's time to get into your places." Dudley glanced at Harry. "Don't messed this up, cousin." Hermione gave a sharp nod in agreement.

Harry groaned as he got to his feet. "Fine. But don't blame me when I have to come back and tell you she's run off. Only a fool would marry an ugly ape like you." Dudley replied to the comment with a few colorful words that caused Hermione to stifle a chuckle and shoot glares at the both of them.

XXX

"I'm sorry." Harry muttered, closing her eyes. Those pale blue eyes that stared at him, not accusing, only questioning. Why? Why did you fail me?

"I'm so sorry." He clenched his own eyes shut, barely holding back the tears. How could he have failed? How could he have broken the promise he'd given?

XXX

She had been crying. Harry could see that. What he could also see was that they were not the tears of joy or happiness. He knew all about the tears of pain and fear. He'd shed them plenty of times and he'd been the cause of more than a few himself.

Joan looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly and moving quickly to blot out the trails running down her cheeks. "Is it time?" She asked, clearing her throat.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. Hermione had always claimed he lacked the tact that was needed in dealing with issues of emotion. He knew it, but then there were times when bluntness worked just as well or better than tact. What he had learned was that it was not the gentle probing with words that helped people, but the solid presence of another person who cared. In his own limited capacity he could be that person, if need be.

"I can't." Joan whispered. "I can't." She clenched her eyes and began sobbing. Clutching her arms around her waist and letting out a sorrowful wail of pain. For a moment Harry was caught off guard by the pure intensity of the emotion, but he quickly crossed the intervening space and offered what help he could.

There were many experiences and things that Harry never wished he knew. Things in which the only way to learn to deal with them was by experiencing it yourself. Sorrow. Pain. Loss. Fear. All those Harry knew how to deal with, how to cope with, for he had lived through them all. He had felt his soul torn out by the pain, he had felt a hardness so painful fill his entire being, and he'd felt so hollow by sorrow that nothing seemed to matter.

After several minutes the sobs quieted and the shuddering stopped. The pain and the sorrow were still there, but the body could only give so much. After a while the tears ran out, the sobs stopped, but the emotions were still there.

"I can happen again." Joan whispered. "They can come again and destroy it all. They can turn everything we've made into ash and not even take a second thought on it."

Harry reached forward and gripped her hand. "Do you love Dudley?" He asked.

"Yes. With all my heart." She responded immediately.

"Then is it not worth taking the risk? To be with the person you love the most?" Harry asked.

Joan was quiet. "I'm just so terrified."

"Then I'll promise you this. Never will any harm come to you or your family." Harry said, gripping her hand tightly. "By all that's holy and good. I swear I'll personally make sure that nothing dangerous ever comes your way."

Joan shook her head. 'I can't take that promise, Harry." She said. "It's too much."

Harry smiled tightly. "Call it a wedding gift. The promise of the Man who defeated the Dark Lord to watch over your family, I'm sure that's worth something. I owe Dudley far more than I can ever repay him in this life. He deserves this happiness, one that you can only give him."

"What about your happiness?" Joan asked.

"I was never meant to be happy." Harry grinned, pushing away the wave of feeling the words produced. "So that means I'll heave to live vicariously through you two. That'll mean you two will have to have a long and happy marriage, with lots of kids."

"How can I deny your request?" Joan asked, laughing slightly. She gripped Harry's hands tightly. "Promise me you'll try to find your own happiness."

"I'll do what I can." Harry replied, rising to his feet. He glanced toward the door. "I'm sure Dudley's pacing a hole in the floor with nervousness. You ready to do this?"

"There were never any doubts." Joan replied, also rising to her feet.

As they entered the bedecked hall, filled with guests and music, Harry spotted Hermione. She stood radiantly beautiful as the Maid of Honor, a look of relief upon her face as she saw them entering. He wondered if he could ever take that risk. To be with the one person he loved and damn the costs. Hermione smiled as she saw Harry watching her. Seeing the smile, Harry knew he'd give it his best shot.

XXX

It had been a beautiful day. Harry thought. Dudley had been happy, Joan had been happy, Hermione had been happy, and for once he'd felt at peace. He'd seen that wonderful family start; he'd seen the love in their eyes, and the joy in their hearts. Now he stared at their end. He stared at the crimson stained floors, and the sightless eyes that would never hold love again.

Failure and a burning sense of rage.

XXX

He was big and mean. All his life he had been an object of fear, the Giant they had called him, an insult, and death to anyone who said it to his face. He was a pureblood and pity anyone who even thought otherwise. He was a pureblood in a world that was continuously tainted by the half-breed, mud-blood, Muggle lovers that filled every nook and cranny of the Wizarding World.

The Second War had ended before he could join it. The Great Dark Lord had fallen before he could welcome him into his ranks. Destroyed by a mere boy, a boy who had become the man now trapped in the house before him.

Harry Potter. The supposed Boy Who Lived and the Man Who Conquered.

Thick metal clad hands held the pommel of a great sword. Nearly four feet of hard steel. There was nothing magical about the blade, just plain steel made from his own hands. Now those hands gripped tightly upon the pommel as several armored figures came out of the shattered door of the home. They moved quickly and quietly, for all their size and bulk.

"We have the child, M'lord." One of them rasped, it held up the squalling form of a baby.

Behind his mask of steel, he snarled. "Fool. I said the girl child. Not this creature." The sword moved with a glittering arch and the squalling stopped. "Now. Find me the girl child."

"Potter still lives." Another spoke. "The others are holding him off in the kitchen of the house. What shall we do?"

His hands tightened around the sword pommel and beneath his mask he grinned. "Potter will die."

XXX

They came trudging up the stairs. Heavy steps that shook the floorboards and caused the stairs to creak. Harry rose to his feet. They had defiled this house for too long.

Blood of the mother and blood of the children. That had been Dudley's request. He hadn't cared about his own safety, only those of his family. So Harry had faithfully made it so. Just as Dumbledore had once used the blood he shared with the Dursleys to protect the house, so did Harry.

Now. The blood lay cooling upon the floors. The ties that bound the charms began to unravel and the wards began to crumble. Blood of the mother and blood of the children. When their blood stopped flowing, then the magic would stop working.

The horror of it filled Harry as he walked to the door. The surrealistic feeling of it all. there were no more. The love and the happiness that once filled the house would never happen again.

The first knight came into focus. Big and tall as they all were. Harry stared at it, almost through it. He'd face their kind before. The Dread Knights of the Iron Duke. A stupid name for an idiotic fool who thought himself powerful. The knights halted, the rasping of steel filling the air. Harry watched them.

"Get out." He yelled. There was laughter as a response and they charged.

Blood of the mother and blood of the children. When their blood stopped flowing, then the magic would stop working. Harry pulled out his wand and called out a curse, the hate, the rage, and the pain condensed into a stream of light. He heard their screaming and continued forward, the way now cleared.

It took only a moment to port Dudley with his wife. They had begun this family together and it was only right that they be together when it ended. He continued down the stairs and out into the bright morning.

It was a beautiful day. Harry thought as he walked out into the lawn. The sun wasn't too hot, nor did he think it would get any hotter. The sky was clear, a brilliant blue. There was a soft breeze blowing, one carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and… Harry choked. He could smell the death. He could smell the lingering scent of fear and pain.

"Ah." A deep voice said. Harry's eyes snapped to a huge man in black armor. In his hands he held a great sword, it's blade glittering in the sunlight. "So we finally meet, Harry Potter."

He slammed the point of his sword into the ground. "Let me introduce myself. I am the Iron Duke. I am here to defeat you." He called out. Harry continued to stare at him. "I have heard you are good with a sword. The Grim Lord was a great swordsman and you defeated him. I am here to challenge you. My steel against yours."

Harry looked back at the house. The shattered door, the broken windows. So much damage.

"Listen to me, fool." The big man shouted. "I will have this duel!"

Harry turned toward the man. "You did this. You killed them all."

The man laughed, a deep satisfied laugh. "My mater trusted me with this job and I have done well." He pulled the sword out of the ground. "We fight now, Potter."

How many times had he been challenged to a duel by others trying to make a name for themselves? There had been so many, so many faces that blended together. So many raw talents, trained wizards, powerful foes. He'd faced them all and he'd won. As he looked at the big man all he could think of was why fight anymore? Why not just give up? Was it all worth it?

His eyes lowered to the grass and then they snapped to a form. A small form wrapped in a blanket, soaked in crimson. The pain suddenly redoubled. Vernon. He frantically scanned the lawn, looking for the other. Where was she? Where was she?

Then he remembered. She was not at the house. She was at a birthday party. She was safe. She was still alive. He looked around and saw several Dread Knights clunking their way down the street. They were looking for her.

"Fight me, Potter!" The man cried impatiently. He had sword and buckler raised, his stance ready to attack.

Harry snarled, raising his wand. The Iron Duke suddenly began screaming. He dropped to his knees as the heavy plates of armor one by one began falling off. In moments they lay upon the grass, a discarded shell of metal, and a pale, pale man sat upon the grass with a stunned expression upon his face. Bright blue eyes stared at Harry as he approached, trying to move limbs that would not respond.

"You are nothing. You will die now and soon your master will die." Harry said, grabbing the man by the neck. He tried to squirm out of his grip but could not. Fear flashed in his eyes and Harry spoke a curse. "You deserve far worst."

Harry walked down the sidewalk, taking a moment to place Vernon with his parents and then heading out to find Angelica, a leather-bound book in his hands, ignoring the blood curdling screaming of the Iron Duke. It was a long and painful death and Harry only wished he could have made it worst.

Angelica was still alive and that was all that mattered now. He had failed Dudley and Joan and Vernon, but he would not fail her.


	13. The Hammer and the Blade

**Chapter Thirteen**

**The Hammer and The Blade**

The Defense Association, or as it was called from the time it's official conception, Dumbledore's Army, had begun in Neville's fifth year at Hogwarts. It had been a response to that year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor refusing to teach actual methods that were needed to fight or defend against the dark arts.

Neville had been there since its beginning. He had been in the first meeting in Hog's Head. He'd been in the first actual meeting where Harry had begun teaching them the methods and the techniques he had previously used to defeat, first Quirrel, then Tom Riddle and the Basilisk, and then coming face to face with Voldemort during the Tri Wizard Tournament.

The DA hadn't sputtered and died after that year, when Professor Umbridge left and was replaced by another. Instead it had grown after the events of the Battle of the Ministry came to light and the news that Voldemort was back was announced. As the War continued and Voldemort's reign of terror increased day after day, the ranks of the DA also grew. Harry had taught them all he knew, training dozens of students at a time, while at the same time also receiving further training from various professors on the side.

Those final years in Hogwarts were far different from the five years previous. Gone were the carefree days, the weekly trips to Hogsmeade and worrying about a paper that needed to be written, or tests that they'd have to do. Castles in their initial concept were places where one could hold out if and when the enemy came. It was a place of refugee and defense. The school returned to being a fortress as Voldemort grew in power and the whole of the Wizarding World was being torn asunder in the battles that raged across the British Isles.

During that last year, Harry had become a man possessed. All his time had been spent preparing, training, and doing all he could to become the person that would have to stand against Voldemort. If it hadn't been for Hermione, Neville knew that Harry would have turned a dark corner. He had given up on teaching the beginner and intermediate students. Instead he spent his time only teaching those he judged as being the Advanced, those that learned quickly and followed his commands without hesitation. No longer was it Dumbledore's army or the Defense Association, it had become Potter's Army. A half trained army of little kids and not yet adults all filled with the eagerness for battle that only the young and the foolish have and their heads filled with thoughts of immortality and glory.

Through all of it, Neville had been there. Since the first meeting, to the first battle, to the first deaths of people he'd known for years. The first person he'd killed had been in defense of Harry. He'd been the one to carry Harry's broken, near dead body from the wreckage that was the Great Hall. He had been there on that sad day when the tattered remains of Potter's Army had been cheered and proclaimed heroes. Where there had been dozens before, there only remained a handful, broken and shattered by the horrors they had seen and committed in the name of stopping a great evil.

When reality came crashing back down upon them. When it had been time to choose what they would be doing for the rest of their lives, nearly all of them had automatically signed up to be Aurors. They had seen the horrors of actual war, but they all also knew they would follow Harry wherever he went. Harry had gone to be an Auror and they followed.

Neville could still remember the first day of their induction into the Auror Training Academy. He remembered the half finished barracks, the strong smell of newly applied paint, and the hordes of workers frantically trying to finish construction before their deadline. Everywhere he could see the newness, the freshly built buildings that had replaced the smoking ruins left behind by Voldemort and his Death Eaters when they destroyed the first Academy and slaughtered everyone there.

The first day of training they had been lined up, twelve kids all looking too young and at the same time too old. There were only two others, and Hermione, who had seen too much of fighting and wanted to live lives of peace. Neville could still remember the sneers on the instructor's faces, hard men and women who had lived lives of fighting. They were not impressed with what Potter had done. They saw it as irresponsible, they were all stupid, they were children playing at war, and they had paid for it in pain and in blood.

Neville had thought he knew what it was to fight. Three years he had trained beside Harry, he had fought alongside him. A part of him wondered why they had to go to Auror training at all. Had they not just defeated the Dark Lord? Had they not proven themselves capable? He had thought he knew how to fight. On that first day he was shown how little he knew. The instructors pulled no punches, they were hard, and they were unmerciful. Every one of them had fought and every one of them knew what it was to fight for your life, the mad desperation to win. On that day they had received a sound thrashing.

It was a realization that Neville hadn't known he needed. There had been a part of him, a small part that had become arrogant, that figured he'd win any fight for he was stronger. He hadn't known how little they actually knew, how badly prepared they had been when they'd gone up against Voldemort. He was shown what skill was and it had filled him with awe and humility.

He felt that same sense of awe and humility as he saw Dennis fighting. It was like watching a brutal thunderstorm. The sky seemed to shake, thunder boomed, and he could feel the power in the air. He cast spells and curses about him, everything in his wake falling, crumpling, burning, and vaporizing as they drew near.

He was a sledgehammer. Smashing a large area, crushing and utterly destroying anything in it, but on the fringes some survived. Neville took those on, slashing and burning as they came his way. Monsters hurled themselves at him. They were nothing more than impressions, creatures coming his way, fast and deadly. There was almost no time to think. Instincts, ingrained after years of training, kicked in and Neville cursed the creatures.

It was happening very fast. One thing that Neville had understood was that a battle didn't take long. There were no drawn out fights. They usually happened quick and deadly, duels in the old sense of the word. The fastest, strongest person would always win. Speed and reaction were the things that were ingrained in them. How to move without thinking, to react and counter without hesitation.

Monsters appeared and disappeared from his vision. He could hear the heavy beating of blood pounding through his ears, he could hear the harsh breathing heaving his chest, but what was happening wasn't completely taken in. The world seemed to fade away and all that there was were the monsters before him. Creatures that needed to be destroyed.

Suddenly as fast as it had begun it was over. Neville blinked his eyes and stared at the devastation that lay around him. Monster lay curled up, their flesh sear, broken, or torn apart. The once emerald lawns were turn into blacken ground, that smoked and was pocked with small craters and large portions that seemed to have just erupted.

Neville watched as a few of the monsters weakly tried to move, their shattered limbs moving slowly and a mewling sound coming from them.

There was the sound of clapping, slow and mockingly. Neville looked to where it was coming and saw a tall figure in black. He could see pale white hands clapping together, but the cowl of his robes hid the face. Though Neville could feel a gaze upon him, taking in everything and making its judgment. Beside him a stunningly beautiful woman stood, red haired and crimson robed arms folded and a mocking grin on her face.

The woman turned and headed toward the cottage, Neville glanced toward it and saw both Hermione and Ron standing near the door. Neville looked back toward the man in black. A second later he attacked.

XXX

It was called the Hammer and the Blade. A simple tactic made by Harry during the final days at Hogwarts for the children in the DA. Harry never called it Potter's Army, though everyone by then had taken up the name. To him it would always be the Defense Association. Toward the end of the school year only the Advanced students were able to do the most complicated magic, but they were few in numbers. The others, the Intermediate and the Beginners were far behind, so Harry had begun grouping them together

A stronger witch or wizard, the hammer, backed up by a weaker one, the blade. The concept was simple and it worked more often or not. The Hammers were taught devastating spells. Spells that could lay waste to large areas and cause the most damage. The Blades on the other hand were taught more elegant spells. They were quick and slicing spells that could be used against one or two opponents, but never against a large group.

It had been drilled into all of them. From the Advanced students to the Beginners. Everyone of them had been taught to learn to fight together. Using each other's strengths and picking up the slack for their weaknesses.

Hermione wondered how deeply that drilling had been ingrained in them all. She knew Neville was an Auror and Dennis would only have to be one of Harry's band of merry killers. They had never fought together and yet there they were falling into an old tactic. Dennis the Hammer and Neville the Blade. Both moving and working together in near harmony.

Hermione couldn't help but feel a shiver of recognition as she watched Dennis' face. She hadn't known the boy when he was in Hogwarts. His older brother had been known for picture taking and an almost sycophant attachment to Harry. They'd both followed Harry into Auror Training, though years apart. She'd heard briefly from Ginny that they'd also left when Harry had quit. She hadn't put together the two events, but now that she watched as he cut a swath of death and devastation across her lawns she knew he was a student of Harry.

Watching Dennis, Hermione couldn't help but to notice how he moved like Harry. How his face seemed devoid of express. There was a detachment to his surroundings, what Harry had called the Emptiness. A place where neither pain, fatigue, and emotion didn't matter. Where only the fight and only winning mattered.

She may not have been an Auror, nor even trained as one. But she'd seen Harry practice and train many times while they were together. There was something almost beautiful about the movements, the way wand and body melded together in a dance that could only cause death. It was a conservation of movement and power. Movements that were efficient and graceful, no energy wasted in either exertion or spell casting.

Nobody was good as Harry when it came to the arts of war. He knew what he was doing and all those that listened to him would also know what they were doing. Hermione had heard of the stories from their days in the Academy. How Harry's small team of five trainees had been the best team to graduate in nearly a century. They had prospered under Harry's instruction. It didn't' surprise Hermione for she could still remember the days in Hogwarts, where Harry had taken the time and the energy to make sure that everyone was learning what he had to teach. To make sure that everyone was proficient and ready. He didn't berate or shout, instead he talked softly and encouraged, taking the time to make sure that you knew it completely.

How many years had Dennis been under his tutelage? As she watched him, she knew Harry had turned the young boy she once knew into that killing machine. That emotionless, remorseless person that cut down and destroyed everything in his path. Hermione couldn't help but feel a shiver of fear watching him.

"Damn, he's good." Ron muttered at her side.

Hermione jerked in surprise, remembering that they were the ones who were supposed to be rescuing them. There were no more monsters, just a devastated lawn and smoking craters.

Then she heard the clapping. No, not all the monsters had been destroyed. Two still remained and one was heading their way.

"Get ready." Hermione whispered and then they were attacked.


	14. The Most Important Things

**Chapter Fourteen**

**The Most Important Things**

They had always called him weak. From the days as a child to the days when he became a man. They had always mocked him for not being able to do spells correctly or to fight as well as they did. They laughed at him and ignored him, after they had shown him they were stronger than he.

They were all fools, of course. They thought him useless, but who among all of them could dismantle charms and wards faster than he could. Who among them had the intelligence that could comprehend any and every spell ever made? The Great Lord had seen that. He'd seen beyond the thin arms, the inability to use magic correctly. He had seen the intelligence underneath and he had harnessed it. He had challenged him and showed him a world where he could excel.

Power, as in courage and bravery, was a common thing. Everyone had it. Even that idiot, the Iron Duke, was strong and brave. Everyone made a big deal about it, yet it was a characteristic as common as dirt. There were plenty of powerful and brave witches and wizards out there, as in Harry Potter. But what was rarer in the world was intelligence. The ability to think analytically. The ability to understand perfectly and completely. That quality in the world was something to be treasured.

So he sat there as the battle raged around him. As brave and powerful fools grappled one another in a barbaric attempt to show each other up. In acts that any monkey or ape would have understood, for that was how primitive their behavior was. The everlasting need for power and the need to conquer.

He was beyond such petty things. His life was for the challenges. For the puzzles and the riddles, and what lay before him was a tricky one indeed. Something that he hadn't seen in a while, a person who knew how to layer spells, charms, and wards. A person of intelligence. This would be good.

He sat there, unseen and hidden, unraveling spell upon spell. There hadn't been a charm he couldn't break, a spell that couldn't be undone. One by one, weakening it, until at last it came all crumbling down.

He called himself Unseen. Unlike the others, he had no desire to let those that he destroyed see him. He worked from the dark, behind closed doors. Not grunting and sweating in fights. His mind was his weapon and it was far deadlier than any blade or wand made.

"Kill the child." He said. There was a stir and three Feeders rose and entered the now defenseless cottage.

XXX

Lisa Moore fanned herself with a plate and slumped into a lawn chair. She glanced up at the sun that was inching its way toward noon and sighed. The day was cool and bright, but she had to control her breathing and dab at her forehead with a napkin. It may not have been hot but chasing after a dozen screaming children was more than a workout.

"Kids running you bare, dear?" Kenneth Moore, her husband, asked. She would have booted him, if he weren't carrying the large cake. He set it down gently upon a large table and grinned at her.

"Joan should have come." She said for the hundredth time.

Kenneth nodded, adjusting the cake. "As they say, there are three things in life you can't control. Death, taxes, and family."

Lisa rolled her eyes heavenward. "And obviously husbands that make very bad jokes and getting sayings wrong." She added, ignoring the pained look on Kenneth's face. She would have added more, if not for a dozen screaming kids running by.

"Looks like they prefer the pup to the main attraction." Kenneth remarked, gesturing toward the bored looking clown blowing balloons. So far he'd been Just sitting in a lawn chair while the kids were running the grass in their backyard bare.

"They're children." Lisa said more in exasperation. She briefly watched the puppy Angelica had brought go scurrying under a hedge and the children like a band of half starving barbarians gathered around it yelling and screeching for it to come out. "Looks like it's time to rescue the poor thing." Lisa got to her feet to intervene in the harassing of the puppy.

There was a sudden loud smashing sound and Lisa turned to see several huge black armored figures kick down her fence and enter the backyard. The children quieted and as one all turned to look at this new thing. Lisa glanced to Kenneth who was already stalking to the figures, his face redden with fury.

"What the bloody hell are you d-" The words were viciously cut off as what looked to be a sword flashed out and Kenneth slump to the floor, a pool of crimson growing beneath him.

Angelica could only stare uncomprehendingly at the still body of Mr. Moore and the large black figures. Suddenly they moved forward and some part of her knew they were coming for her. Angelica began screaming, just before Lisa Moore began screaming in terror.

XXX

The Marauder's Map had been made by four young boys, who like all young boys loved to cause mischief and pranks. It was more of a toy and a thing to use so that they could not get caught by professors and others as they made their infamous exploits. But as all good ideas, they get co-opted into something they were never intended to be used as. The Marauder's Map showed everyone who was upon the grounds of Hogwarts. In the hands of certain people it could become a weapon.

It could also be used as a means of defense. The Second War had raged outside the walls of Hogwarts. The possibility of attack upon the school grew more and more so as the days passed. The school needed to be defended and the Map was one of the ways that it was. The problem though was there was only one Map to cover the entire school. The problem was solved by two of the most intelligent people in the school, Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood. The two of them had managed to take apart the Marauder's Map bit by bit and understand how it was put together. How the spells and charms on it worked and how to duplicate it.

Harry had taken the pains and the effort to understand how it all worked together, a genius of charms and spell work. Several more copies had been made and the used to help in guarding the school from possible invasion. They had proved their worth when Voldemort's wrath had descended upon Hogwarts in those terrible final days.

When the War was over and peace returned, all the maps were destroyed and the original was left with Harry, who had immediately hidden it away. The Map for all it's innocent purpose, could become something terrible in the hands of the right person. But the thought of the Map never left Harry's mind. It was a terrific idea, but limited to Hogwarts.

After several attempts and failures, Harry had managed to create what he called the Book of Names. A simple leather bound book that held the names of all the people that were dearest to him, or those that needed watching. The basis was the same as the Marauder's Map, in that it showed people, but where the Marauder's Map was tied to Hogwarts. The Book of Names was tied to a person.

Wherever that person was, it would show them. No matter how far, no matter where. The person and their location would always be displayed. People in the book had been added with their permission. The book never left Harry's person. As in the Map, in the wrong hands it would be terribly dangerous.

The Knights had vanished from sight. But Harry flipped through the parchment pages of the book, flipping past blank page upon blank page. How many had died? He wondered. How many people he knew? He shook away the thought as he steeled himself and flipped to the pages that held the name of the Dursleys.

Dudley, Joan, and little Vernon. The pages were all blank. Except for one. Angelica. He saw her name among a huddle of others, nearly lost as the names of others gathered close together, and then several others simply marked Dread Knight appeared. The followers of the Iron Duke had given up their names. They were nothing but Dread Knights, through and through.

He watched as the Dread Knights made a beeline toward the bunched names of children. Harry gripped his wand and vanished in a crack.

XXX

"Don't worry, Crooks." Emily whispered, stroking the big cat's ruffled fur. He was alternating between purring happily under her care to anxiously walking back and forth. She continued to pet him, looking at her bedroom door.

She pulled Crookshanks close, wrapping her thin arms around his thick body. Mommy had said to stay in her room. Normally such a thing would have been immediately broken, but Emily sat still. She didn't know what it was, but she could feel it in the air. it was safe in the room and in the room she would stay.

There was a scuffle. The sound of breathing, ugly harsh breathing. Emily crawled toward her bed and pushing the old dollys and toys out of the way. There was scratching upon the door and Emily pulled herself underneath the bed. Crookshanks followed, a low growl coming from him as he eyed the door. Emily pulled him close to her, burying her face into his fur and clenching her eyes tightly closed.

Maybe it wouldn't see her. Maybe it would go away.

"Mommy."

Then the door crashed open in a rain of splinters and Emily began screaming.

XXX

Screaming. It was everywhere.

There was no other sound in the human language, any language for that matter, that could express so many different forms of emotion. It was a simple forcing of air out of your lungs and your mouth, yet it was able to express what a person was feeling without all the intricacy and delicacy that was needed when using words.

Harry considered himself a connoisseur of screams.

His earliest memory was that of his mother's dying scream. A heart wrenching cry of loss, love, and pain. Things since then had not really changed. There was a decade long break where the only screaming was that of anger and frustration. When looking back on those days, Harry thought of them as quiet peaceful days. The only thing to fear was Dudley and that was usually easy to do.

Hogwarts did not only teach him new spells, new ways to do things, it also taught him the wide range of human emotions that could be stuffed into a simple sound. In those halls that rang with centuries of knowledge and learning was where he learned to tell apart the screams of joy and those of pain, rage, fear, and terror. In a place that was supposed to being a child into adulthood, for Harry it was only a place where the screaming never ended.

Everyone closest to him screamed more than once. There were screams of terror from Hermione, screams of loss from Ron, screams of hate from Neville, screams of pain from Luna.

Harry arrived with a sharp crack. The sound of air being displaced and a solid body filling the gap. His green eyes scanned the area, quickly and almost instinctively he moved out of the way of a lumbering sword swing.

The hissing of iron cutting through the air and the flutter of wind in its passing was all Harry noted as a series of fast and brutal spells fired from his wand. They were the Four Hits, a little combination of spells that were used to disorientate an attacker, giving the other person a bit of time to re-orientate and evaluate the situation.

It took only a second for Harry to note several things. One, he was outnumbered ten to one. Two, the area was filled with Muggles, mainly children. Three, the lawn was enclosed and the children were being herded against a far fence, though now the Knights were changing their course. Instead of going after the children they were taking on the new threat that had arrived, swords moving and orders being given.

He didn't see Angelica. Where was she?

A flutter of fear filled him for an instant but he pushed it away. For now he couldn't think on it. There was an enemy that needed facing. Emotion would only cloud him.

For all their mass and their size the Knights moved quickly and nimbly. They lawn was large, but they quickly moved toward him, fanning out and taking advantage of their numerical superiority. The Dread Knight he had attacked when coming, joined their ranks, staggering slightly from the aftereffects of the spells.

Harry stood still waiting for them all to come. They all had to be here. Away from the children, away from Angelica. His eyes scanned the oncoming Knights individually. They all looked the same, big and their faces hidden behind iron helmets. He paused momentarily upon the crimson staining some of the blades they carried. His eyes flickering to several bodies that were lying in a pool of crimson. The blood still bright and fresh.

"You're master is dead." Harry said simply. They were all near now, tensing for an attack. "Now you'll all join him."

They attacked.

XXX

Charms and spells and wards and all that the mind could come up with, protected her home. She had spent hours charting them, she had spent days plotting them out and making them perfect. Yet there was always that thought that someone would come along who was both stronger in magic and more adept at charms than she was. There was always that biting fear that no matter what she did she would not be able to protect the one thing in all the world she loved most.

Harry had been right when he said that bad things always followed him. There had been times when people came looking for him when they were together. People who only wanted to make a name for themselves by killing someone else. How many times Harry had been attacked while they were together was a mystery to Hermione. But more on one occasion did he return injured and bleeding from some simple errand h went on.

Those random attacks had caused her more fear and worry than they did him. Harry seemed to accept it as something to be dealt with, like rain or fog. An annoyance that was occasionally deadly if you weren't careful. For Hermione they were a constant source of sleepless nights. Not from fear of her own hurt, but those of Harry.

When he left so did the attacks. The worry and fear had been shoved aside by the deep sadness at his leaving, the doubts and the questioning as to why he had abandoned her. But when Emily was born they came back in force. Now her worry was not for Harry, but that small, fragile bundle of life.

Enemies lurked everywhere. Even in these so called times of peace, there were dark forces still at worked. Forces that never stopped, that never rested. There would always be those that sought power, those that sought glory, and those that would do anything in their greed. Harry had said those same words only days before he had left, in that anguish tone that reminded her of the darker days at Hogwarts.

She hadn't really understood what he meant by it, in the beginning. The world was safe then, Voldemort had been killed, and there was peace and re-growth all across the land. Yet when Harry had left and soon after stories trickled in that he had been fighting some Dark Lord or Witch somewhere, the reality of the world began to settle in. The world was a dark place. There was always hurt, there was always pain in some corner of the world.

So she began doing what she could to make the life of her child a safe one. The most precious person in her life, she would not grow up to see the horrors her father and mother had seen. She would not carry the scars of death and destruction upon her, she would not carry the burden of knowing that her own actions had killed and let people be killed.

The charms and wards were her best work, layers upon layers that were designed to protect. Some aggressive, others passive, others hidden, and more set as traps. Only with great difficulty would a witch or wizard be able to dismantle them.

That though ran though Hermione's mind as she parried the first spell coming her way. A hot flash of energy designed to kill, then the smell of ozone as it was dissipated, the energies channeled and turned harmless in a quick delicate balance of powers and spells.

As the next wave of power and curse came rushing at her, she wished she had stayed in the cottage. What was she doing? She was not a fighter anymore. Her days had been spent contemplating theories, not fighting against minions of some Dark Lord. Those days had been buried in the past, a chapter of her life she had wished could always remain close.

Yet she fought, old skills rushing back to the front of her mind, unforgotten skills and instincts taking hold and making her move in the old dance of death and power. It all came rushing back, the frantic breathing, the knowledge that the wrong move would kill you, the almost giddy rush of adrenaline that pumped fire through her veins.

Ron moved at her side, fast and unfocused, casting away spells and attacking, a furious assault of curses and spells that sparked, crashed, and verberated in the sir. She could almost feel him beside her, raging like a fire, hot and fierce. She could almost feel his muscles clenching and moving, lightning fast, the power just waiting to be unleashed. Their hearts beat as one, their movements complimented one another, they moved as a single entity.

But something began to nag on Hermione's mind. They were moving away from the cottage as the Red Haired woman began to fall back from their furious assault. Every step they took forward, left the cottage secluded, alone, with Emily by herself.

Then she felt it, the lessening of power. The unraveling of her charms, sliced away as if they were nothing. One by one they came undone, exposing more and more of the house to potential attack.

Fear began to rise in Hermione. "Emily."

Hermione turned and ran, as the last of the protective charms fell away.

"Hermione?" Ron questioned.

XXX

The sword arched downward, hissing through the air. It connected heavily with the grassy lawn, sending a slight vibration through it. Harry moved, wand scrapping across metal and causing the attacker to fall back screaming in agony. The heavy sword fell to the floor, clattering.

Another blade hissed, but Harry was already moving, a bolt of condensed blue flashing and dropping another attacker in a heartbeat.

Blood pounded in his ears, a deafening drumbeat that almost blocked out the screaming of agony and the clanking of heavy metal moving faster than it was designed to. Harry struck out, a dazzling flash of green and another Knight dropped, motionless and still, no noise.

He ducked a stab, wand grazing the glittering steel and instantly making it turn red. The Knight screamed, falling to the ground, the stench of burned grass and flesh filling the air.

Something heavy clipped him, knocking the breath out of him and throwing him to the ground. He immediately rolled out of the way, a sword descending where he was moments before. Harry snapped out, a wave of light slashing the sword and cutting in half. The Knight staggered back off balance, then a blast of blue hit him and he too fell to the floor motionless.

Only seconds had passed, a dizzyingly series of moments that left half the Knights dead upon the grass. The remaining five backed up, giving each other room and preparing for a charge. Caution was etched in every line of their form. Caution and fear.

Harry brushed a hand down the front of his coat, leaves and damp grass falling away. He glanced quickly behind him, seeing the huddling children. Seeing Angelica's pale face among them. It was time to end this.

The Knights moved, ready to attack.

"Inferno." Harry whispered.

There was no time to scream, no time to react, one moment they were preparing for an attack, the next they toppled to the floor, smoke rising form the creases of their armor. The stench of charred flesh in the air. Harry watched them for a moment, feeling his breathing returning to normal and his heart slowing. His face an expressionless mask.

"Uncle Harry!" A shrill voice screamed.

Harry turned immediately and scooped up the small frame that threw herself at him, her tears suddenly hot against his cheek and the sobs already pouring out. Shaking her slight shoulders. She was alive. She was safe.

"Shhh… Don't worry. We're going somewhere safe." Harry whispered and then vanished with a loud crack.

Silence fell upon the lawn, wide young eyes staring at the crimson stained grass and the iron forms.

XXX

There was screaming.

Hermione saw the beast, a ungodly creature made of nightmares and reeking of death. Without though she attacked it, a flash of overly brilliant light and the beast cried out, staggering to the floor and going limp.

"Emily!" Hermione cried frantically.

"Mommy!" Emily's voice.

Relief, sweet and powerful filled her as she burst into the room. She saw the small pale hands waving from beneath her bed, with tears of joyous relief stinging her eyes, she ran to her.

She struck something hard and sharp.

Confusion flooded her for a brief moment, what had she hit? Her sight could see nothing before her, but yet something caused her to fall back, nearly crashing onto the beast she had just recently dispatched.

Confusion and then pain. Searing hot and agonizing. Hermione clutched at herself and felt something hot and sticky running through her fingers. Pulling them back she saw her hand covered in crimson.

Emily's screaming shook her out of the shock that was beginning to fog her mind. She looked up and saw a blade descending.. 


	15. Winners and Losers

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Winners and Losers**

Angelica was sobbing.

Harry immediately went to one knee, scanning her small form for any hurts or injuries. There was nothing, beyond grass stains, dirt, and bits of grass still clinging to her colorful clothing. Harry pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and clenching his eyes shut.

"You're safe, angelica. You're safe." He whispered gently.

Angelica continued to cry, clutching Harry and burying her face into his shoulder. Her small arms shuddered and the hot tears continued to roll down her cheeks. Harry looked up to see a pair of bright violet eyes looking down at him, surprise and fear barely contained in them.

"Harry? What's going on?" Kathryn asked. The slim raven hair woman immediately moved to his side, worry emanating from her.

"There was an attack upon the Dursleys." Harry whispered. Kathryn gasped in shock, looking down at Angelica who was still sobbing. 'She's the only one."

"Was it…" Kathryn could barely say the name.

Harry nodded, gently pulling Angelica away from him. He looked down at her dark eyes that still held the fear and the terror she had experienced, the horror she had just witnessed. Harry looked down at her and realized she still didn't' know about her family. A pain stabbed within him and he barely held back the emotion that flooded him.

"He's attacked another place. Denis is there now. He needs help." Harry explained.

Kathryn nodded, absorbing the information.

"Jelly." He whispered hoarsely. "Jelly, you're going to have to be a big girl now. I'm going to have to go. There's people that need me." The thought was still hovering in the back of his mind, pushed back by all that had happened, but still there. Emily. Hermione. Asedemon.

"I want my mommy." Angelica sobbed.

"I… Stay with Kathryn." Harry said. "You'll be safe with her." He cupped her small face in his hands. "I'll be back, Jelly. I'll be back and everything will be alright."

Kathryn moved in, immediately pulling Angelica into an embrace. Angelica instinctively curled up in her arms and buried her head into Kathryn's shoulder. Clutching tightly to a warm body, to comfort, and to safety. Harry rose to his feet, feeling oddly hollow and empty.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Harry said, pulling his eyes away from Angelica.

"Be safe Harry." Kathryn said, softly patting Angelica's head. The small girl had her face turned from him, her small shoulders beginning to shake again.

The last thing he heard before vanishing was Angelica sobbing.

XXX

She was gone. He was lessened. And she was too powerful.

A furious renewed attack and Ron fell back, barely keeping his shields up and fending off the terrible energies that would have left him dead in an instant. The Red Witch came at him, her pale beautiful face now graced with a satisfied smirk.

A blast of red light, hot and sending waves of agony across his body, was barely deflected. The power was strong, incredibly strong.

"Not so strong now are you?' The Red Witch mocked, slicing at him with a renewed attack. Ron dodged them, striking back with a few quick and deadly jabs, which were easily shoved away.

Ron ignored the taunts, He tried concentrating upon what needed doing. Defeating the woman, that's what mattered. Yet his thoughts kept rushing back to Hermione. Where had she gone? Was Emily safe? Distractions, concern, fear. They all bubbled up in him and he fell back, barely fending off attack upon attack.

Ron felt a fear.

A fear that he would lose.

XXX

He had seen this before. He had witnessed this terrible onslaught of power, anger, and deadly determination. Then it had been in a different person, a boy who was barely a man. The result was nearly the same.

Anger, rage, hate. They were emotions that clouded the mind, most of the time. But they were also emotions that channeled the energies, focused power, and turned a people into whirlwinds of destruction.

Neville followed in Dennis' wake. His own wand clenched in his hand and casting spell upon spell, as fast as they could form in his mind. Behind the two lay a land of ripped and shredded. A land smoking and cratered, broken and burning.

They kept fighting. They kept pushing, forcing the creature who had brought this destruction upon them, back. Forcing him to retreat before their combined might. They were winning, weren't they? If they were winning, why was the creature laughing?

In a eye blink everything changed. In an instant fortunes were reversed. As in all battles, a lucky move, a careless attack, mistakes or a tiny opening. They changed everything.

Dennis screamed, not out of pain or terror, but out of anger. Anger that he had lost his chance. Neville shot him a look and watched in horror as Dennis stumbled away, a strange black fire flickering upon his robes.

Dennis screamed, his wand still clutched in his hand, his eyes still locked upon the monster. He still tried to fight him, ignoring the deadly magic enveloping him. Dennis moved on, his robes crumbling around him, his flesh falling away, yet he still fought. A single-minded determination that caused Neville to stop and gape.

Spells tumbled through Neville's mind. Spells to stop this enchantment, but none came. His concentration diverted, he did not see the coming attack.\

There was a dull roar and then a feeling of weightlessness. Neville then crashed upon the charred ground, clods of dirt showing around him, and the taste of hot copper in his mouth. His senses were shaken, his vision blurred, and his mind trying to focus upon what was happening. He heard screaming, he heard the roar of power and fighting.

He rubbed away the dirt and blood from his eyes, catching a final glimpse of Dennis crumbling away like dust before the creature Asedemon. Neville clamored to his feet. Dennis was dead, yes, but the fight still needed to be fought. How many boys and girls, men and women he knew fell in battle around him? The fight was all that mattered. The dead would be mourned later. If there was a later.

Neville got to his feet, the world swaying before him. His mind trying desperately to focus. The wizard Asedemon turned upon him and Neville knew he had lost.

XXX

Hermione rolled away, a flash of pain coursing through her and the sickening smell of death from the creature beside her filling her nostrils. With a flash of silver and a heavy thud, the blade buried itself into the oak floorboards of the cottage.

She saw the pale glimpse of a hand upon the blade before it was released and vanished. Instantly she knew what she was dealing with.

"Accio Cloak!" She yelled, extending her red stained hand. She felt something soft fill her hand and suddenly a small, pale man appeared not far from her. His eyes staring at her in shock.

For a moment there was silence and then he lunged for the blade, hands wrapping around the hilt and arms bunching to yank it out of the heavy floorboards. Hermione cast her hand about and felt the smooth familiar wood beneath her hand.

"Mommy!" Emily cried. Hermione looked up and saw the man had freed the blade.

At the sound of Emily's voice he turned toward her, blade in hand. Hermione felt a cold feeling descend upon her.

She lurched forward, ignoring the searing pain, ignoring the agony, and focused her mind. The tip of the wand touched the man and he jerked back, as if yanked by an invisible cord. He crashed into the far wall, convulsing and screaming. Hermione continued forward, her eyes only for the small girl who stared at her, green eyes wide.

"Emily!" She cried, pulling the little girl close. "Close your eyes and cover your ears."

The man continued to flail and scream.

XXX

Neville fell to his knees, pain searing across his body. He shuddered a breath, trying to focus upon what was happening. He knew he should have been dead. He knew that he could have killed him if he wanted to. He was being toyed with, mocked before he was allowed to die.

With pain coursing through him, Neville tried to get to his feet. But was knocked down by another blast, heat and light, and the world shuddered around him. He looked up as his vision cleared and saw red piercing eyes looking down at him. He saw his death, and all he could think of was Ginny. How would she feel about this? How would the kids handle it?

Hands cold as death and hard as steel gripped his neck. He tried fighting back, but his arms barely responded, too weak and too injuried.

I'm sorry, Ginny.

"Step back." A cold voice said. Neville squinted and saw Harry standing there, his wand held before him.

Relief flooded him, moments before pure hot pain burned through him.

XXX

Ron coughed up blood. A thick metal taste flooded his mouth and he tried to get to his feet, his legs shaking and his head spinning.

"Rise to your feet, Weasley. Get up." The woman sneered. "You don't want to die upon your knees like your brothers, begging for mercy."

Ron felt a flash of anger, pushing aside the pain and the screaming refusal of his limbs to do as they were command, and got to his feet. He would not die on his knees.

Before him stood the red witch, wand raised. He saw the death blow coming.

He would not die on his knees.

XXX

When the War was over there was a great many questions about how he had felt when he finally faced off with the Dark Lord Voldemort. When he had given his answer people were more confused than satisfied.

When it had come down to the Final Battle, as everyone called it, Harry had only felt an intense sense of relief. Relief that it was finally coming to an end. The years of warfare, the years of terror, fear, pain, death, destruction. It was all coming to an end as the two greatest living wizards faced off against one another.

Too much had happened for Harry to be scared of death anymore. If anything death would be more of a release than something to fear. If he won or if he didn't, then he would finally be free. Free of the pressure, free of the expectation, free of the hopeful looks everyone gave him, those sad little loyal eyes and hearts that had followed him to their deaths. He would finally be free of the responsibility that kept him awake night after night and broke his heart as one by one they fell because of him.

There was little fear left, there was little awe, or terror for the creature that had brought the wizarding world to it's knees and had caused the death of so many. There was no anger at the blood that went un-revenged, the long rolls of the dead that cried out for justice. There was only simple relief that had flooded him.

This was it. This was the end. Win or lose. After this it would finally be over. He could rest. He could finally find a peace.

As he stood upon that charred and ruined landscape, Harry discovered there was not relief coursing through him. There was a burning rage, a fiery hate that had him clenching his wand in a white-knuckle grip and a feral snarl upon his face.

This would end now. Too many people had already died. He would destroy him, utterly. A cold rage burned in him.

XXX

She saw the death blow falling. She saw him standing there, undefended and barely upright, a strange look of defiance upon his bloodied face. Hermione gripped her wand and pushed herself out of the kitchen door. The fight was not over.

Curses flew from her wand, as fast as she could send them. She had the advantage of surprise, it would be over in a moment. It wasn't.

Hermione was shocked at how fast she was, a blur of red and the curses were shattered, like glass upon concrete. The deadly spells deflected and even more deadly ones being shot at her.

But as quickly as the fight began it was over. Suddenly a terrible explosion rocked the grounds, sending Hermione crashing into the stone wall of the cottage and sending the red witch and Ron tumbling through the air like rag dolls.

Earth and stone pelted her. She quickly wiped them away, pain coursing through her. She got to her feet and stared at the scene before her in terrible awe.

She had not been there during the last fight between Voldemort and Harry. That had been Ron and Neville, she had been fending off Death Eaters and trying to save the ragged remains of the DA from extinction. But she had heard of the terrible fury that had rocked the foundations of the school, that had destroyed the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries.

Hermione had never seen Harry in his full fury. She had never seen the unmasked hatred and terrible power he held in check. She stared in both awe and fear. The two figures clashed, crackling with power. This was not the delicate duels between wizards, this was a raw and brutal fight between two giants.

She watched the fight and knew Harry was losing.

XXX

Emotions clouded the mind. Those were one of the few things that had stuck with Harry when he seriously began training for the Final showdown between him and the Dark Lord. Emotions weaken the mind and cloud your action. In a fight they are not needed, what is needed is reflex.

Training yourself to become more machine than person. Training yourself to a point where thought no longer entered the equation. Thoughts occupied the mind. Emotions clouded it.

Two things that lead to dead wizards and witches when it came to fighting. In the pure brutality of fighting, there was no need for thought or emotion, only action.

Harry knew at once he was going to lose. In his mind flashed the faces. the few remaining people he had loved. Gone.

Rage boiled, anger flowed, hate coursed. And he didn't care. He only wanted the creature before him destroyed.

He came in fast and he came in hard. Like Dennis before him, a sledgehammer . Spells and cruses crashed and thundered around him, cratering the ground and causing the air to crackle with barely contained energies. He only saw the dark robes before him. He only saw that terrible images of those he loved in his mind.

The very earth seemed to shake at his attacks.

Then he misstepped, misjudged. In a moment it was over. The furious battle, the terrible fight was over. And Harry upon the ground saw his death coming. And felt relief.

XXX

There was relief at last, an unexpected feeling. Harry looked up at the wand pointing down at him and he didn't feel fear. He didn't feel anything, beyond an unexpected sense of relief. The same relief that had flooded him when he had faced Voldemort all those years ago.

This was it. This was the end. He had lost. After this it would finally be over. He could rest. He could finally find peace.

"This is how the Great Harry Potter dies?" Asedemon mocked. "I expected more of a fight, at least this time you did not run as you had before" He laughed, a deep rasping sound.

Harry watched him, waiting. There was always the last moment mock before the killing. A moment for you to let the fact that you've won sink in, to give your opponent a moment to know that they've lost and you've triumphed over them. It's small, it's petty, and not only do the dark lords and witches do it.

"You'll –" Asedemon suddenly turned his head, as if catching a scent upon the air. His eyes flashed in anger and he turned back to Harry. "We'll finish this another time, Potter." With those words he turned, his dark cloak flapping around him and stalked across the charred grass.

A moment later a limping woman in red robes joined him. Then they both vanished in a loud snap. Leaving an eerie silence behind them.

Harry felt a disappointment. His weakened arms fell out of under him and he collapsed to the ground. The scent of blood, burned earth, and grass filling his senses before darkness enveloped him.

XXX

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione cried, collapsing at his side. His glasses were cracked, his hair disheveled, and the marks of the brutal fight left his clothing in tatters and blood seeping from small wounds.

Her shaking hands moved toward his neck, immediately finding a strong and steady pulse.

"He will be fine, Hermione. He will be fine." A voice said.

Hermione looked up and saw a kindly face looking down at her.

Hermione sat back upon her heels and looked at the death and devastation that had been visited upon her home. She looked back at the long bearded man settling down beside her and she knew she was going to be safe.


	16. Tears, Anger, and Fear

**Chapter Sixteen**

Anger, Tears, and Fear 

"You bastard!" She raged. "You selfish bastard!"

The slap rang out sharply in the quiet of the room. Harry closed his eyes at the intense flash of pain across his face, but he did not move or say anything. He deserved worse. Again pain flared across his face, his head snapping at the force of it. The hot taste of iron filling his mouth.

"Ginny!" Hermione cried, grabbing the other woman.

Harry used the back of his hand to wipe at his lip, seeing it stained with crimson. How much blood had been spilled today? How much more would be shed before the day was over? He looked to Ginny and she stared back defiantly, her face streaming tears and a wild look of fear and anger in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." Harry said quietly. "I'm sorry Ginny." He didn't know what else to say.

"You didn't have to take him. You could have just left him." She sobbed, Hermione clutched her in an embrace and the red haired woman grabbed at her, her shoulders shaking and tears falling. "He could have been killed."

Harry hung his head. How many had died because of him? The count was always rising, it would never stop. They were all in danger, no matter how much he thought they were protected. Harry looked up again to see Hermione looking at him. There was pity in her eyes.

Ginny suddenly pulled away from Hermione. wiping at her eyes and taking deep shuddering breaths. She stared down at Harry, this time the fear and the anger were gone. There remained instead a strange look that Harry did not recognize.

"You've done great things, Harry." She said, her voice calm. "But you bring death everywhere you go. Please. Leave my family alone." There was pleading in her voice.

Harry watched her, his eyes stinging and expression barely held together.

"Please.. Harry." Ginny whispered.

Harry nodded.

"Thank you." Ginny turned and left the room.

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked up at her and then turned away. The look of sadness and worry that she gave him was too much. He wanted there to be hate in her expression, pain, anger, anything to show him that what he had done had been a horrible thing. To show him that he was nothing more than a killer.

"I have to go." Harry said rising to his feet. He pulled his tattered coat upon his shoulders, wondering briefly who had stitched it back together.

"You're still hurt." Hermione said immediately, she took a step forward as it to stop him. "The healers need to look over you. You need to rest." She added, her voice becoming stern.

Harry smiled briefly. "I need to get back to Angelica." He said, his voice beginning to crack. "I'm all she has."

The sudden pain almost staggered him, rushing up and making it hard to breath, hard to think, a thunderous roar in his ear. Harry clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked and held back the wave of emotion.

Hermione stared at him for a moment and then her hand rose to her mouth, that look of sadness once again flooding her face. " Oh, Harry." She whispered, already tears were beginning to fall. "Oh, Harry."

She stepped forward, but Harry moved faster, gently grabbing her by the shoulders.

"No. Hermione. Not now." He whispered, his voice hoarse. "I can't. Not now."

She nodded silently and looked up at him, the tears still running down her face. Harry looked away and then released her, heading out the door. Behind him her heard Hermione begin to sob.

XXX

"How is he?" Harry asked, confronting a Healer who was looking in on Neville.

The Healer, a stout woman with iron gray hair tied into a bun, looked at him briefly, noting the barely healed cuts and bruises covering his exposed skin. She did not comment on them. Instead she looked down at the clipboard in her hand.

"He's unconscious at the moment. Running a fever. What physical damage that had been done has been repaired those of the magical variety will have to wait until we can run a full set of tests upon him." She flipped through the clip board she was carrying and scribbled upon it. "He was lucky." She added. "He would have died from the physical wounds alone. Is he a friend of yours, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded, not surprised that the woman knew his name. 'I'm not sure after this.' He said.

The woman glanced at Neville, his face peaceful, yet Harry could still see the imprint of Asedemon's hand upon his neck. A red mark upon his gray pale skin.

"His wife was displeased with what happened to him." She suddenly said.

Harry continued to look at Neville, his chest rising and falling slowly. "He wanted to go." He said, closing his eyes. "He wanted to fight, a brave man."

The Healer nodded. "He is a brave one. One of the few good Aurors left."

"Bravery is overrated." Harry said. "It just leads to dying quicker. I've seen too many young men and women who were brave die. At least the cowards flee from the fight. At least they live a long life."

"Many called you brave. For what you've done." The healer said quietly.

Harry bared his teeth. "And what's that?" He asked.

"You have done great things, Mr. Potter. You have saved the lives of people, you destroyed a great evil. You are a hero." The healer said, there was a brightness to her eyes and a small smile upon her lips. She believed the words she had said. Harry turned away, unable to face it.

"It's not heroism that pushed me. It was fear." He said.

"During the darkest time of the War, people took courage from your bravery. They looked to you to show them not to be afraid and to fight the evil that was corrupting out land." The Healer said, once again the brightness shown in her eyes. "You showed them that if they wanted peace, then they would have to fight for it. Evil men and women crowd the world, but it is good men like you who put a stop to them. You inspired everyone to fight for that dream of peace and happiness."

"Tell it to all those that died because of that." Harry snapped, turning and walking away.

"My sons died for that dream." The healer said softly, watching as Harry stalked away.

XXX

Ron sat up. Feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him. He put his hand to his head and felt the thick layers of bandages covering it. He sighed, and rubbed his weary eyes. There was pain and there was soreness, but nothing seemed irreparably damaged.

He smelled the overpoweringly smell of disinfectant and could almost hear his heart beat in tomb like quiet. He must be in a hospital. Ron looked about and saw that the room he was in was empty. The hall outside it was quiet.

Nobody was waiting for him.

"Surprising." Ron muttered sarcastically, pulling on his robes. He felt his muscles twinge, but he tried to ignore the pain. Afterward he felt breathless, his knees felt weak and the room continued to tilt to one side, but he knew it would fade, sooner or later. Anything was better than sitting in a hospital room.

A Healer was walking down the corridor and Ron stopped him.

"Where are they keeping Emily Granger?" he asked.

The healer looked him up and down, a frown forming upon his lined face. "Down the hall, room seven." He replied. "You should be in bed." He added.

Ron ignored him and continued down the hall. He heard laughing as he neared the door. A child's laughter and that of a man, for a moment he stiffened and frowned. He felt his anger begin to rise. What was he doing here? What right did he have to see her when he had brought all manner of danger down upon her and Hermione?

Angrily he pushed open the door, only to stop in his tracks.

"Headmaster." He said in surprise.

Dumbledore looked up at Ron's entrance, unsurprised. His blue eyes taking in the bandages upon Ron and his flushed expression. Headmaster Dumbledore sat upon the only chair in the room, his wand out and causing glowing balls to bounce and spin. Emily was upon a white bed, sheets tossed aside as she was sitting upon the edge of her bed, playing with the glowing balls.

"It is good to see you up, Ronald." Dumbledore said.

Emily turned to him and smiled hugely. "Look, Uncle Ronny." She cried, pointing at the glowing balls. She looked at him for a moment. "What happened to your head?" she asked.

Ron touched the bandages and smiled briefly. "Nothing, Emily. Nothing.' He smiled and sat down upon the bed, Emily immediately sliding up to him. Ron was grateful that there seemed to be nothing wrong with her. She was unharmed, a great weight seemed to lift from his shoulders as he pulled her into a tight embrace, Emily quickly hugged him back, saying nothing.

"Where's your mother?" Ron asked.

"She went to see Harry Potter." Emily said. "He's hurt."

Ron set Emily back down and looked toward the door. The anger he had been feeling returned. What was she doing seeing him? The unwanted thought that she had gone to check on Harry and not him crossed his mind. He tried pushing it away, but it settled in.

"Events are in motion." Dumbledore suddenly said. He tapped the glowing balls with his wand and they turned into small figures, which began to run around upon Emily's bed. She watched with fascination as they did cartwheels and hopped about. Crookshanks, who Ron hadn't noticed, hissed as one of the figures drew close to him and lazily swatted at it with his paw.

Ron turned to the headmaster. "Aren't they always?" He asked shortly. "Events are always in motion around Potter, and everyone dies because of it." He stopped looking at Emily who was still engaged with the figures, letting one of them run around upon the palm of her hand.

"He does what he can so-"

"Spare me." Ron snapped rising to his feet. Emily stopped playing with the figures and stared at him. "He has no right to involve Emily or Hermione in his doings. He left them. He abandoned them. Now he's back and look what's happening." Ron paced angrily in the small room, Dumbledore watched him with clam eyes. Emily only stared; Crookshanks nudged her with his head and purred, trying to get her attention.

"What's going on here?" Hermione asked, walking into the room. Ron immediately stopped pacing. He suddenly felt a great relief to see her standing there.

"How are you?" He asked, stepping forward.

"I'm fine." Hermione said. She looked incredibly sad.

Ron stopped, noticing something different. "You've been crying." He stated.

"I-" Hermione began.

"What has he done?" Ron demanded, closing his eyes. "What more has he done?" He pulled away from Hermione, folding his arms across his chest. His head was pounding, the weakness in his legs was worsening.

She had gone to see him first. The though suddenly bubbled up again. She had went to see him and he caused something that had brought pain to her. Ron was tired of the anger, but it continued to burn in him. Everything he did caused anger. Everything he did hurt everyone around him. Why couldn't he just stay away? Ron said those words and Hermione looked at him, the sad and hurt look gone now. Instead it was replaced with a hardening stare and a stiff posture that Ron easily recognized.

"You don't know all the facts. Hermione said.

"I know what I see. I see him coming back. I see a man die before my eyes. My own sister's husband nearly killed. You hurt. Emily put into danger. You home turned to ruins. For what?" He began pacing again. He could feel it burning in him. The anger. "This is all his doing. All this death. All this destruction. He's nothing more than a murderer!"

silence descended upon the room as everyone stared at Ron. Suddenly there was a loud crack and Ron felt his head spin. Pain flared across his cheek and he staggered back to see Hermione staring at him, anger burning in her eyes.

"Get out.' She said.

Ron stared at her, touched his still stinging cheek, and left, without saying anything.

XXX

Hermione stood her ground until Ron had disappeared and his footsteps stopped echoing down the corridor. The room was deathly silence.

Shakily Hermione sat upon the edge of the bed and dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking and tears running down her face and into her hands.

"What is it, child?" Dumbledore asked, suddenly at her side. His comforting arm draped across her shoulder. "What has happened?"

"The Dursleys." Hermione choked out. "They're all dead." The tears kept coming.

Dumbledore said nothing, instead he held her in a tight embrace and Hermione cried. She felt Emily clutching at her side, not knowing what was going on, but crying because her mother was.

The three sat there, tears falling.

XXX

It was heading toward dusk when he came back. The sun turning a deep orange as it headed toward the western horizon, shadows growing long, and the east turning a dark shade of violet. There had been things to take care of , the house, the damage… the bodies. Harry sighed, entering the House. The bundle in his coat began squirming and Harry set it upon the floor.

The small puppy had been hiding in the house. How it got back, Harry didn't know. But there it had been sitting, howling forlornly in the shattered empty place that had once been a home.

"Kathryn." Harry called out. It was dark inside. No lights. "Kathryn?"

Silence.

"Kathryn." Harry pulled out his wand. It glowed, filling the area with light. The puppy Harry began barking, it's cries resounding sharply in the quiet house. Harry made his way cautiously toward the sound, extinguishing his wand and readying a curse on his lips.

He found her on the floor. A dark stain spreading out beneath her.

"Kathryn."

The cold hand of fear seized him.


End file.
